


Greener Pastures

by Budgiechan



Series: [Title Pending] [1]
Category: Bokujō Monogatari, Bokujō Monogatari GBC 3, Harvest Moon, Harvest Moon 3, Harvest Moon GBC 3
Genre: F/M, Family, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 10:33:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5740330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Budgiechan/pseuds/Budgiechan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sara's life is going perfectly. She's revived the family farm, brought prosperity to her home of Citrus, and become engaged to the man of her dreams. By all accounts, she should be over the moon.</p><p>And yet...</p><p>When tragedy strikes, Sara must learn to stand on her own. With no one beside her, she must discover what it means to be herself, and what to do when love is not enough to get one through the storm. And maybe, just maybe, she'll find the Greener Pastures she's always been searching for.</p><p>[A GBC3 fic]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Greener Pastures

There’s a lot to blame for Sara Wilder’s good mood today.

For one thing, the Wilder Ranch has recovered in leaps and bounds, a miraculous change. It hardly resembles the sorry, near-abandoned farm she'd found when she'd returned home two years ago- it's thriving, beautiful, green. Not only can they boast a full recovery, but also record-breaking shipments and prize-winning animals. Before, the little island of Citrus had been a virtual unknown- now its name is on everyone’s lips, and the threat of the landfill has all but vanished. Her father’s farm is safe, and Sara’s quite certain that he’d be proud of her for fulfilling his dream.

For once, however, her joy in the farm's recovery has taken back seat to something else entirely.

“Sara?” Her partner had stopped her this morning on their way out to chores, a very serious expression on his face. “Would you mind meeting me at the cliffs later? I have something very… very important to ask you.”

Pete Sanders isn't the most talkative of men. Her live-in farm partner, he's the one who'd helped her restore her father's farm to its former glory- and even improve upon it. His expertise is responsible for the new crop irrigation system, the refined feeder system in the barns, things she'd in childish innocence had never considered to be vital to a farm. Taking her hand in his, they'd polished her father's failing farm into a shining diamond. Though at first they'd gotten on like oil and water, they'd settled into a sort of friendship, and eventually something more.

After all, he is her boyfriend now.

Even after all this time, she has to pinch herself at the thought of it. She, Sara Wilder, is someone’s _girlfriend_. The girl who'd sworn off men, the one who'd thought she'd only ever belong 'like a sister'... belongs to someone. There's someone out there who loves her, makes her feel like she's never felt before. She has someone to laugh with her, cheer her on when she stumbles- pick her up when she falls. After years of going at it alone, she finally has a partner, a soul mate.

Things can only get better from here.

The butterflies that had started before work are still there as she takes the long path up to the cliffs that evening. Pete is not a secretive person- he's as blunt as they come, much to her chagrin. Half of their fights nowadays stem from the fact that the man has apparently never heard of having tact. Even so, she's okay with that- Pete wouldn't be the man she'd fallen in love with if he learned to think before he spoke. In a way, his thoughtlessness is thoughtfulness- he's honest to a fault, and that, in her mind, is proof enough that he's a good person.

A person, perhaps, who was too good for her.

The thought nags at her as she trudges up the hill. A discussion so far from home, so suddenly, from a man who was prone to blurting the first inappropriate thing- it alarms her. Most of their discussions happen over meals together, or before bed, during pillow talks that turn into pillow fights. If she'd done something wrong, or something right, he would have told her right away- _should_ have told her. As her mind races with a million possible scenarios, her pace slows, and she stops walking all together as one in particular surfaces to the forefront of her mind.

Marriage.

Of course, she’s silly even to entertain the thought. Pete is a lot of things- brash, uncouth, proud- but he isn't a marrying man- at least, he didn't want to marry _her_. He'd told her as much when he'd showed her his late mother's necklace one day after dinner, claiming it was for the girl he was going to marry someday- a girl whose name was most certainly not Sara Wilder. Then again, he'd asked her out mere days after that putdown, so the thought isn't _impossible_ \- just ridiculous.

Sara starts walking again, nervously worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. Pete has shown no signs of wanting to propose- his behaviors are still as boorish as ever. Why, just this morning she'd had to scold him for belching without excusing himself- and then following it with an obnoxiously noxious _fart._ A marrying man would at least _try_ to humor his future fiancé _._

For her part, she's kept her desires secret. Loving though he was, Pete could still be quite merciless in taunting what he called 'useless dreams.' After seeing a romantic comedy in the city together- a movie that had been her request- he'd made his opinions quite clear. People who believed in destiny and faith and _love_ were hopeless fools. Realistically, you had to just do what you could with the hand life had dealt you- being a dreamer didn't put food on the table.

In her heart, she knows he's right. Thus, her dreams stay secret. If he ever got to know about her private visits to the cellar to try on her late mother's wedding gown, if he became privy to her dreams of being whirled around a room in the arms of her beloved, of throwing a bouquet into a crowd, he'd never let her live it down. In fact, she'd probably have to kill him.

Yes, it was for the best that they kept their hearts' desires secret. The harmony on Wilder Ranch would go asunder if they disclosed _everything_ to each other. Some things were better left secret- like her dreams of being a blushing bride, her life tied to his till death did them part. There's no way he can ever know about this desire of hers.

Even if the dress does fit her like a glove.

“Pete!”

Her boyfriend is sitting on the ledge of the cliff when she finally arrives, staring out to sea with a distracted expression. She takes a moment to take him in, the clean lines his body cuts against the gathering dusk. He's powerfully built, with broad shoulders and thickly muscled arms. His square jaw and close-set dark eyes give off an intimidating air, and when they'd first me, she'd been more than a little put off by his stare. Now, however, after years of working and living together, she feels no fear- only love.

At her call he turns, smiling lazily as he gets to his feet.

"Hey, Sar." He laughs as she grabs his arm, tugging him away from the edge. Though he towers over her by more than a foot, beside the sea he seems impossibly small. Fragile. "Looks like _someone_ missed me. Had a good day?"

“Idiot,” She scolds, hugging him tight. He smells of dirt and sweat and sunshine, a natural cologne that she finds she can't her life without anymore. She inhales deeply, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. “What’ve I told you about sittin’ on the edge?"

“I’m fine,” He laughs, the rumble of his deep voice against her ear calling to something primal deep inside of her. She shudders as he folds her into his arms, his heartbeat solid and loud against her cheek. He feels warm- _alive_. “But I think you owe me an answer to my question, miss.”

“... The animals were fine,” She replies finally, her voice wavering in relief as her fear fades. He's here in her arms, solid and real and _here_. He wouldn't leave her- not on purpose anyway. And as long as she had breath in her body, she'd do her best to keep him here. She lifts her head, crinkling her nose at him. "Like always. Though..." Here, she hesitates. "The Union _did_ call today-"

"About the horses?” He holds her at arm’s length, his dark eyes searching hers. “Keep ignorin’ them, darlin’. They ain’t takin’ none of our animals.”

“I know." She exhales quietly. "I just... I still worry though."

"We’ll find a way ‘round that stupid rule of theirs," He reassures her, gripping her shoulders. She looks up into his eyes, and her lips quirk in an involuntary smile. She can't help it- when he gives her that look, even the moon and stars seem obtainable. "I promise."

"All right, Romeo." Sara laughs, shrugging him off. Her cheeks tinge pink and she scoffs loudly, trying to hid just how starstruck he could make her, even after all this time. "Now tell me what ya dragged me up here for. We got a perfectly comfy house to talk in." She struggles to keep her voice light as he stares at her, waiting. "I- I mean, we could be eatin _hot pot_ right now, ya know."

“I know.” He takes her hands in his. Even through two layers of kid skin gloves, she can feel the heat of his body. “Sara, I’ve been living with you for some time now, haven’t I? Two years or so?”

“Yeah?” She shivers as a cold wind blows in from the ocean, washing over them and bringing that fear right back. “W-what about it?”

He couldn't possibly be thinking about- could he?

“You didn’t like me at all at first, did ya, Sar?” There’s mischief in his eyes, but his voice is very serious. Sara stares back in bewilderment. “In fact, you tried to get rid of me, didn’t ya?”

“What dumb ass can’t tell the difference between a mushroom and a toadstool?” She smiles despite herself, remembering the first meal she'd ever cooked for the two of them- a veritable disaster. “Honestly, Pete, I was testin’ ya. And it seems you’ve proven yourself to be a right reliable partner so far.”

“Is that so? Well, so have you- for the most part.” He laughs, though the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sara…. can I ask you something?”

“Sure!” She beams up at him, her voice soft and heart full. “You can ask me anything, darling.”

“Well… can I stay here on the farm with you?” He starts, searching her face intently with his dark, dark eyes. “Maybe... forever?”

“O-of course not!” She explodes, surprised and a little bit embarrassed by her own enthusiasm. Relief floods her like the riverbank in spring, and she feels her knees grow weak. He wasn't leaving her after all. “I can’t think of anything better! We’re a great team, and I really…” She hesitates, doubting herself. “But would _you_ be okay with sticking around with me?”

“Hmm…” He considers her statement, dropping one of her hands to stroke his chin thoughtfully. “Now that you mention it... I dunno. Sar, you’re sorta _difficult_ to get along with. Maybe it wouldn't work out.”

“ _Please_.” She grabs his hands, her eyes wide and heart racing. “We’d be so _happy_ together, I know it. I mean, we already are! I… I love you , Pete, _so much_!"

"Sar-"

"More than anything in this world," She rattles on, "And that’s the honest truth, Pete. I couldn't- none of this would have happened without you. I- I need you." She falters. "Don't go."

She's lost her parents already, and had nearly lost her home- if she lost him as well....

"I won't." He bends down to press his forehead to hers, a teasing smile on his lips. “Of _course_ I’m staying with you- I couldn’t think of anything better.” His hands find the small of her back, drawing her closer. "Don't sell yourself short, sweetheart."

And just like that, her peaceful dream is restored.

“Jerk.” She pouts, her vision swimming as tears of joy replace the panicked ones that had flooded her eyes mere moments before. "Don't tease me like that."

"Sorry." His breath tickles her nose. "You're just so easy."

"Asshole..." She leans against him, her eyes fluttering shut. "Ya know I don't like that."

"I said sorry."

"W-well," She grumbles, annoyed that she'd played right into his hands. "Don't assume yer off the hook, mister. I could boot ya out whenever I like."

"Yeah, right."

"I could!" She protests. "But.... yer valuable enough help. I _guess_ I'll keep ya around."

"You guess?"

"Yeah," She laughs. "Just make sure ya pick up yer socks and keep the mud outta the house, and I think we’ll do just fine.”

“And buy you that big bed you’ve been eying, right?” Sara's eyes fly open, and she glares as Pete laughs loudly. “Don’t act so shy now, Sar. We both know why yer so eager for it.”

“And whose fault is _that_?” She complains, pulling away. “If ya weren’t so rough, I wouldn’t have cracked my head so darned hard and missed all that work. It put a big dent in our profits, you know.”

"Which I more than made up for."

“Seriously, Pete, the heck are you after?" She falters. "Is something... going on?”

“Only if you want it to.” Sara blinks as Pete reaches into his pocket, a secretive smile on his face. “Close your eyes, Sara.”

“Fine,” She pouts, crossing her arms. “Yer bein’ damn suspicious, ya know? What are you up to… to…” A heavy weight settles against her chest, and her eyes flutter open. “Oh, _Pete_.”

It’s just as pretty as she remembers it, the moonstone glinting in the afternoon light- his mother’s necklace, the one he’d bluntly sworn would _never_ be hers.

“Why are you so surprised, sweetheart?” Pete’s warm voice brings her back to reality. “I told you, remember? I was saving that for the girl I intend to marry… and that’s you.” He drops to one knee, taking her hand in his. “Miss Sara Wilder, will you marry me?”

The air rushes out of her as she claps a hand over her mouth, her eyes brimming over with tears. It's a cruel joke, if that's what he's intending but... somehow, she knows it isn't. This really was happening. They were going to be wed- _married_.

Together, forever.

“Sar?” He frowns as she bursts into tears. “Are you okay? Was this too soon?”

“Of _course_ not!” She flies into his arms, nearly knocking him to the ground. “I’m so happy Pete! Yes, I’ll marry you! Yes a million times!”

“Thank the Goddess!” He crows, picking her up and swinging her around. “I’m the happiest man alive, Sara!”

“Kiss me!” She begs, leaning towards him as soon as her boots are firmly on the ground. She can hardly help the happy sigh that escapes when his lips are on hers. When they're together, she's the happiest she's ever been- and this is only the beginning of their story. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He pulls away with a mischievous grin. “So, Mrs. Sanders? How about we go home and celebrate our blessed union, huh?”

“Who said I’m taking _your_ name?” She scoffs, even as she takes his hand. “There’s already one Sanders Farm ‘round these parts, and I ain’t havin’ another. Besides… I think Pete Wilder has a nice ring to it.”

“I dunno about that...” He tugs her back towards the farm. “But we can talk names later. I need you now, Sar. Let’s go home.”

“Home,” She sighs, twining their fingers together.

Life can only get better from here.

~ ~ ~

“Sara?”

It’s a week later, and they’ve both thrown themselves into planning for their wedding. As Sara's discovered, there's more to a wedding than just saying 'I do'- there are invitations to be sent, and flowers to be ordered. They have to decide on decorations, and guest lists, and a million other little things she'd never even heard of before. If it weren't for the white dress awaiting her in the basement, she'd beg him to just elope. Marriage is a journey, however, and this is just the first test. If she and Pete can make it through this together... they could make it through anything.

“Hmmm?” Sara looks up from the catering guides spread before her, absently gnawing on the end of her pencil. Today's task is planning the wedding menu, and her stomach growls in protest. It's hours till dinner, however, and her pre-wedding diet leaves no room for snacks. "What is it, darlin'? Another food allergy?"

Lately, Pete's been full of questions- unusual, for him. Sara happily answers every question thrown her way, glad that after two years of living here he's finally taking interest in their home. Somehow, their impending marriage feels less like a dream that way.

“No.” Pete purses his lips. “Citrus doesn’t have a school, does it? Or a clinic?”

“... No?” She cocks her head to the side, a little bewildered. “Ya already know that, silly. What ya see is what ya get in good ole Citrus."

"I know but..." He hesitates. "You grew up here, so what'd you do for all of that back then?"

"Elder used to teach school up at the church," She muses. "Though I never much went. Too boring. We ain't had kids of school age 'round here since then- 'cept Kate. Her pa takes her to school in the city though. Like they're too fancy for country learnin'."

"And if you needed a doctor...?"

"Ya try not to, generally. But if ya can't help it, the city hospital's always there. An' I guess there used to be a midwife or something but it's been years since anyone's needed her..." She breaks off her rambling, fixing him with a curious stare. “Why the sudden interest?”

“Nothing, nothing,” He says quickly, leaning over to point at a piece of paper before her. “Hey, you should order that one.”

“Gross!” Sara wrinkles her nose. “Ya know I hate chocolate cake. ‘Sides, _yellow_ cake is traditional.”

“Screw yer yeller tradition,” Pete teases, ruffling her hair. “But can we at least have a chocolate fountain at the reception?” He bats his eyelashes, sticking out his bottom lip. “Pretty please, Sar?”

“ _No_!” She glares, not taken in at all by his pitiful attempt at puppy eyes. “We don’t got nearly enough guests to afford that- plus they make you keep it after. The heck are we gonna do with a chocolate fountain on a farm?”

“I have a few ideas,” He wheedles, smirking as he pulls her to her feet. “How about we forget this for a while and I… show you.”

“Pervert,” Sara complains as he drags her to bed, falling onto the mattress with her. “It’s four in the afternoon, ya nympho.”

“Any time is perfect,” He assures her as he bends down to meet her, “So long as I’m with you.”

By the time she remembers their strange conversation, it's too late for further questions- not that Sara cares to ask them. It's nice that he's taken an interest in their home, after all, and in one of the dreams she's let slip- the dream of restoring Citrus to the thriving town she remembers from childhood. She's touched that he wants to help her, to spruce up their home up and make it like the one he'd left behind.

Pete truly is the best fiancé in the world.

~ ~ ~

When he brings it up a second time, she starts to become nervous.

“Goddess’ sake, Pete. For the last damn time, there ain’t no schools, no clinics, no _shops_ on Citrus Island.” Sara crosses her arms over her chest, glaring at her partner. “You know that, so why the heck do ya keep askin’?"

"I-"

"Is something going on? I saw you went to ask the mayor about our property value- if yer hiding somethin’ from me, ya better spit it out, and _fast_.” She narrows her eyes. “What aren’t you telling me, Pete? I’m yer _fiancée_ , damn it, don’t I got a right to know?”

“It’s nothing, darling,” Pete soothes, wrapping his arms around her in a soothing hug- at least, it would be if she weren't so mad. “I was just _curious_ , that’s all. It’s always a good thing to know how much your land is worth, just in case something happens. As for the rest… don’t this place seem just a bit backwards to you? You lived in the city, you know what I’m talking about.”

“So?” She stiffens. "There was a recession, Pete. Ya can't just expect everything to bounce back cause you want it to."

"I know, I know. But-"

"But _what_ , Pete?" Her voice holds a dangerous note to it. "What are you trying to say here, Pete? Ya don’t like our home?”

“I’m not slighting your home _at all_ , dearest.” He hugs her tighter, ignoring her squirming. “I just want what’s best for you. You understand, right?”

“ _’Course_ I do,” She says softly, smiling to herself. "An' I love that about you. It's just..."

"I know," He murmurs. "Wedding jitters. It's okay, I get them too."

“... Say Pete. Yer... _happy_ ta be marrying me, ain’t ya?” A bubble of worry escapes to the surface, and she suddenly feels cold. "You'd marry me no matter what, right?"

"Of _course_!” He sounds indignant. “I love you, idiot! I’d never have second thoughts.”

“Good.” She pushes him away to give him a kiss. “Now why don’t you relax while I go get dinner started, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll miss you."

"I'll miss you too-" She breaks off with a shriek as he swats her behind. " _Pete_!"

"I hate to see you go, but I _love_ to watch you leave."

“P-pervert!” She fires back, trying to ignore the queasy feeling that still lingers inside of her. He smirks knowingly as she throws a few punches at him- even the kiss he presses to her temple before sending her on her way doesn't make her feel better.

Sure, she trusts her partner, but something about this all just doesn’t seem right.

If she found their home just fine then… why didn’t he?

~ ~ ~

“Yer tux is coming in tomorrow, right?”

It’s the night before the wedding, and the house is finally silent and still. After a long day of endless preparation, both for the exciting day ahead as well as the winter that was soon to follow, they're both exhausted, thankful for the opportunity to just rest in each other's arms. The pale light of the moon spills in through the window, illuminating their faces in the gloom.

“Yeah, Daisy’s bringing it in tomorrow when she comes.” Pete runs his fingers over Sara’s bare sides, causing her to let out a sleepy shriek. "... Yer cute."

“Pete, _quit_!” She burrows closer to him, shivering. “Your fingers are like ice, ya jerk.”

“You didn’t mind it earlier,” He teases, smirking at her red face. He presses a kiss to her lips, sighing softly. “Can you believe it’s tomorrow?”

"Hardly. It came on so fast." Sara rests her head on his chest, tracing her fingers over his bare skin. "I thought we had more time."

"I can't wait." His dark eyes burn into hers. "To make you mine before the Goddess and everyone."

"You already have." She yawns, his steady heartbeat lulling her into a trance. It's all she needs for a good night's sleep. "Ya really ought to have stayed upstairs today like I told ya. Seeing the bride in her dress before the wedding... it's bad luck."

“Bad luck, bad schmuck.” He runs his fingers through her hair. “You know I don't believe in that crap. And I really couldn’t help myself- you looked so _adorable_ , dancing around all by yourself like that.”

“Asshole.” She yawns, shutting her eyes. As much as she wants to stay awake and savor the last hours they have together before holy matrimony, she's _really_ tired. “I guess I can’t hope that yer gonna be nicer once we’re married huh?”

“Nope.” He falls quiet, his fingers falling still. “Hey… Sar?”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s… let’s move back to Rosebud, come spring.”

His words steal her back from the edge of sleep, and she sits up, suddenly wide awake. “The _hell_ are ya on about, Pete?”

“Look, I know it’s sudden but- I’ve been doing some serious thinking about the future. About us. Grandpa’s farm is bigger, and there’s a lot more-“

“More _what_ , Pete? This is our home- I’m not giving up Dad’s farm!” She shakes her head furiously. “How could you even _say_ that? After all we’ve done to save it!”

“I know you’re attached, Sar, but this island- it’s dead. Even before the recession hit- it hasn't changed in over a _hundred years_. The Union and us are the only ones keepin’ it alive." He sighs. "I don’t think it’s right that we gotta break our backs for a handful of villagers.”

“But that’s what Dad did!” Sara cries. “And Grandpa before him, and his dad before _him_!" Her heart pounds in her chest, her veins filled with ice. "W-why would you bring this up, Pete? Why now? We’re getting married _tomorrow_!”

“I know.” He shifts uncomfortably. “That’s exactly _why_ I had to bring it up. Sar, we're about to start a life together- we've got a future, you and me. And there's nothing here to support that- it's the sticks, Sar. There's no midwife, no school- we'd be better off anyplace else."

"W-what the hell are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I don’t want to raise our children in a dump like this!”

“ _Children_?!” Out of all the nonsense he’s been spitting out, it’s this that worries her the most- sends a chill down her spine and freezes her heart. “Who said we’re going to have kids? I- I don’t want no brats!”

“Why do you think I’m marrying you?!”

The words hit her like a slap to the face.

“I mean, I love you, _obviously_ I do, but I don’t need no piece of paper to tell me that. But the way we’re going… it’s damn near inevitable that it will happen eventually. And I figure-“

“I- I don’t want kids, Pete.” Sara swallows hard. Her mother had died in childbirth when she was only three- another secret she'd never shared with her husband-to-be. “I never did.”

“That’s what you say _now_ Sar, but I know you. You'll make a fantastic mom some day, I just know it. And," He continues, completely unaware as her mask of indifference comes crumbling down. "Everyone in Rosebud will adore you, I just know it. Daisy, Rosie, Ken- Chocola, too! You'll fit right in."

“But I ain’t _leavin'_!” Sara croaks, finding it suddenly very hard to breathe. “This is my _home_ , Pete. I was born here, and I’ll die here too. I- I won’t go!”

“Not even for me?” He takes her hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles. “C’mon, Sar. Just think about it.”

“ _No_!” She yanks her hands away, scooting away from him. “What the hell, Pete? I feel like I don’t even _know_ you anymore!”

“Don’t be unreasonable!” He snaps, good humor gone. “You _know_ this place is backwards as hell- that’s why you left before!”

“No!” She shrills. “Dad and I had a _fight_ , that’s why I left! And if ya don’t even know that- then I don’t think ya know me at all!”

“Maybe I don’t!”

“ _Goddess, Pete_!” She feels hot tears burning at the back of her eyes. “I made a promise to Dad that I wouldn’t run again. Every Wilder has been born and laid to rest here, and I ain’t gonna be the first to break that cycle.”

“Good thing I’m not a Wilder then,” Pete snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. Sara stares at him, understanding slowly dawning on her.

This isn't love- and if it is, she wants no part of it.

“Yeah, a great thing.” She shoves him away, the dam finally bursting. “Y-ya wouldn’t wear the name w-well at all!”

“Sara?” He reaches out to touch her wet cheek, wonder in his voice. “Sweetheart, you’re crying. What’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter?” She parrots, her voice high and shrill. “Are ya really askin’ me that, Pete?! _Everything_ is wrong!” She wraps her arms around herself, shrinking away from his touch. “Maybe… maybe we rushed into this too fast.”

“Huh?” He frowns. “This? Sara, what are you saying?”

“Wedding is off,” She sobs, turning her face away from him. “Indefinitely.”

“Sara.” He frowns when she flinches away, his touch suddenly repulsive, unbearable. “Sara, darling, be _reasonable_ -”

“I _am_!” Her voice breaks. “I am, because I don’t _know_ you anymore. Maybe I never did! The man I fell in love with would know I won’t leave my home for anything-“

“And the woman _I_ fell in love with wouldn’t want to trap our family into a pit of debt!”

“No!” She hops to her feet, clutching the sheet tightly around herself. “You’re wrong- you’re wrong!”

“I’m not changing my mind about this!” He rises, starting to dress in the clothes they’d discarded so hastily mere hours before. “Why are you being so pigheaded about this, Sara?”

“Because you’re _wrong_!” She snarls, anger overriding hurt. “And I’m not gonna have this in _my_ house- get out!” Her rage only intensifies as he fixes her with a bewildered, hurt stare, like he can't possibly understand what's happened. “Get _out_!”

“Sar…" He wheedles, opening his arms for her. "Come on, darling, we can compromise-“

“Compromise _this_!” She shoves him out the front door, slamming it his face. He bangs at the door as she slides the deadbolt into place with a satisfying click, her resolve firmly in place.

“Sara! Open up!” She turns away, her heart heavy and her mind made up. “Come on! You know won’t last a season without me, Sara! You _need_ me!”

“No, I don’t,” She chants as she retreats back to her bed, curling up in sheets that still smell like him. “No, I don’t. I won’t need anyone ever again.”

It’s a mantra she uses to buoy herself through the next few seasons. When he doesn’t come back, when the mayor threatens to take her home from her and the Union comes knocking, she reminds herself of her promise and refuses to cry. Even when the worst thing possible happens, she keeps a level head, a hardened heart.

She’s strong enough to do this on her own-she always has been. She should have never let the mayor and the Union convince her to let him in. She should have chased him off two years ago, restored her father’s farm alone and spared herself this unnecessary pain. As she packs away her mother’s dress in the cellar, she locks away her feelings too, her eyes set not on the past, but on the future.

What’s done is done, and she’ll reap the oats she’s sown.

And she’ll do it all alone.

~ ~ ~

“Say, Pete, did you hear? About Citrus Island?”

Pete Sanders looks up from brushing down a young ewe, his eyes meeting his friend's Daisy from across the pasture. She's leaning over the gate, beckoning him over eagerly. With a sigh, he sends the animal on its way, heading over to Daisy's side.

Citrus Island. Now _there’s_ a name he hasn’t heard in ages- nearly six years, in fact. Since Sara'd kicked him out, he'd tried his best to keep her from his mind. He'd returned home to Rosebud, selling their tiny boat for capital to start anew on his grandfather's farm. He'd avoided any and all questions from mutual acquaintances, throwing himself fully into his work. The only reminder of the past he's allowed himself is a tiny polaroid, tucked away inside his desk.

It's a lonely life, maybe, but at least it's his.

“What about it?” A lamb wanders over to nibble at his pants, and he swats it away absently. “They turned it into a landfill, didn’t they?”

Sometimes he does wonder about her, though the times are few and in-between. It's hard to fully erase the memory of someone you'd thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with, after all. Some nights he dreams of her laughter, of the unladylike snorts that would punctuate her giggles, no matter how hard she tried to stifle them. Walking into the kitchen, he's reminded of her stubborn attempts at cooking, the many ruined pots and pans and the persistent stench of burned food that lingered, even after she'd gotten better. What haunts him the most, however, is the memory of their last night together. He still remembers her haunted, hurt expression, how tiny and vulnerable she'd looked even as she fought him tooth and nail. She’d always been stubborn, of course, but there'd been something different about her that night- a certain fear that he can't explain, no matter how many times he's turned it over in his mind. It's in the past now, of course, but he still wonders at times if there'd been something else going on with her.

It didn't matter anymore. They were free of each other now and he was happy for it. All he hopes for now is that she'd found a place to take her in when the farm had gone under- a place to stay and a man to take care of her.

Goddess knew she needed one.

“… And the _shop_!”

“What?” He blinks, evidently having zoned out through all of Daisy’s rambled speech.

“Were you listening to a word I said?” Daisy teases, wagging her finger at him. “I said there’s an animal store there unlike any you’ve ever seen. Cows, sheep, chickens, alpacas, ostrich…”

“ _Ostrich_? Wait wait, back up.” He shakes his head. “On _Citrus_?!”

“And the Inn has the best food around, or so they say. I’m _dying_ to get away for an evening just to try it out!” She sighs wistfully. “... Say, you never did say why you came back so fast. With all the stuff happening over there, I’d have figured you’d have wanted to stay.”

“Hmm…” He stares past her to his fields, frowning as he considers her words. “I guess…. I guess I just missed home.”

He supposes taking a day to go check things out couldn’t be so bad. At any rate, it would allow him to stop the villagers from harping at him- and maybe sooth a certain curiosity.

Truthfully, he just wanted to see who’d transformed the rundown place into something respectable. Whoever they were- and it certainly couldn’t have been Sara- they had earned his respect.

“Mind watching my farm for me?” He asks finally, offering Daisy a winning smile. “I reckon I ought to go check this place out myself.”

~ ~ ~

He’s hardly off the boat before the changes to Citrus Island hit him. Even from the sea, it’s easy to tell that something has changed. The entire place looks alive, somehow, and it’s easy to tell why.

Gone are the empty, open spaces of the village he remembers, filled instead with inviting shop fronts and cozy-looking homes. The beach, too, is cleaned up of all debris, and he’s shocked when a group of children rush by, nosily chasing an errant toy ball.

He can't recall anyone being pregnant when he’d left- Elza hadn’t been married yet, and Kate would only be of courting age now. Which meant that these children had moved to Citrus with their parents- they lived in these houses, in this town. He turns his attention back to the neighborhood, noting the renovations to the Inn and church. There are signs here and there, pointing out small shops and businesses, directions to main attractions. Up the hill, he spies the the famous Animal Shop- the crown jewel of Citrus Island.

He had to hand it to whoever had done this- Citrus was finally starting to look civilized.

“Adam! Put that back!”

When Pete enters the Animal Shop, he's greeted by a strange sight. A young woman and a small boy are in the middle of a squabble by the register, surrounded by a mess of powdered shampoo- a majority of which is all over the boy. Though he can’t see the woman's face clearly from his position, it’s quite evident that the little boy, whose bright red face he can see quite clearly, is about to have a meltdown.

“But _Mooommmmm_!” He whines, stomping his foot petulantly. The large blue cap on his head wobbles with the motion. “I _need_ it!”

“You do _not_!”

The woman’s voice is eerily familiar. Though most of the people around here have a country twang to their voices, himself included, this voice in particular makes him feel… cold. Strange. Like risking the fire for watching this private argument might be worth it, somehow.

“The heck d’ya need _animal_ shampoo for?! We just washed ya yesterday!”

“Not for _me_ , Ma! For Lapi! _Lapi_ needs a wash!” Pete notes that the kid, who has the brightest baby blues he's ever seen, is cuddling a dirty looking sheep doll. “Please, Mom? Please?”

He's suddenly thankful he's not a parent. If that child had batted his eyes at _him_ like that, he'd have given him the moon and stars without a second thought. His heart just wasn't cold enough to say no to a child. And this kid was seriously adorable- he could probably get away with murder with a face that cute.

Luckily for all of them, the mother's heart is just that cold.

“Lapi is fine, but _you_ , mister, ain’t. Ya made a right big mess of my shop, so all ya need to do now is march yer butt to the back and grab a broom to clean this up.”

“No!”

“Are you sassing me?”

Living in Rosebud for the past six years, he'd learned very quickly that he wasn't cut out to be a parent- and watching this argument go down only confirmed Chocola's proclamation that he'd make a terrible father. Every time he'd had to babysit for Rosie and Chet, their children had run all over him- and why not? They were adorable and sweet and he could always clean up their mess before their parents came home- usually, anyway. He saw no harm in letting them do what they wanted. Chocola had burst in on them one time, and had angrily declared him the reason her niece and nephew were so unmanageable.

"Mr. Pete, you can't discipline at all, can you?" She'd scolded. "Cute or not, they need a firm hand or they'll grow up ruffians! You'd make a terrible father the way you are now! Don't you dare have any kids till you can grow a spine!"

Yeah, it was probably for the best that he and Sara had broken up when they had. He couldn't imagine having a child, and that sweet little kid growing up to be a mouthy teenager like _Choco_. With half of Sara's genes in them, the kid probably wouldn't have even started off sweet to begin with- thank the Goddess he'd avoided _that_ bullet.

A tug on his pants shakes him from his thoughts, and he glances down in surprise.

Oh great, there’s _another one_ \- a little girl, this time with the same dark brown hair as the boy and dark eyes to match. He can tell they're siblings- their faces are identical, even though his is crumpled in anger and hers is wearing a cheeky grin. He steps aside as she skips past, her cute little pigtails bouncing with each step.

“What is it, Tina?” The woman sighs heavily as the little girl proceeds to badger her silently for attention, patting her with frantic hands. “Mommy’s busy with yer rat of a brother now, so could you- _ow_!” The woman winces as one of the pats turns into a slap, rubbing at her sore thigh as she glares at her child. “ _Fine_ , Tina. What is it? And use your words, please.”

To Pete’s surprise, the girl remains silent, instead using her hands to talk to her mother. The woman waves her whining son into silence, returning a few of the gestures as she concentrates on her daughter.

“No, Tina, I done _told_ ya to use yer words already… thank you, baby. Mhmm... a man? What about him? He’s tall… and?” She pats her head. “A hat?” When the girl nods, adding a few more gestures, the woman gasps, turning around to stare at him with wide eyes. “Oh _shit_ , a customer!”

Pete returns the incredulous look with one of his own, surprised by this ghost from his past. Even with long hair and a new outfit, he’d recognize his ex-fiancée anywhere.

“Sara.” He nods politely, trying to control the urge to grab her by the shoulders and ask how the hell she’d ended up like this. The last he’d seen her, she’d been a woebegone girl, wrapped in a bed sheet and shaking with tears. Now, she's all grown up- a strong, confident-looking woman with not one, but _two_ kids. He isn't sure how this could have happened, considering the state he'd left her in, but he sure isn't happy about it. “Long time, no see. I ain’t interrupting you, am I?”

“The _hell_ are you doing here?!” Her voice is shrill, panicked. “I oughta- Adam, Tina, run 'long to Uncle Billy’s and stay till I come get ya, hear?” She waits until her children have scampered out before turning her full attention back to him, that familiar steeliness back in her eyes. “What the _hell_ d'ya want, Pete Sanders?!”

“Woah, easy on the hostility there, Sar.” He glances around. “You’ve done right well for yourself, haven’t ya? They said on the ride over that someone here had singlehandedly overturned the Union’s monopoly on the place and had restored it to its former glory- I never dreamed that someone was you.”

“Hmph. I ain’t sure if I should be charmed or offended.” She’s clearly having trouble controlling her anger. “Shop’s closed now, so get.”

“Fine fine.” He shrugs, not wanting to pick a fight with her just yet. “I gotta say though, you look great with long hair. Just like yer Ma.” He smiles when she flinches. Bingo. “So? Who is he?”

“Huh?” She frowns, confused. “Who is who?”

“Who’s the bastard who moved into my farm?” He nods at the closed door. “The one who fathered those adorable brats of yours?”

He isn't sure he wants to meet the person who'd gotten Sara to change her mind- after all, this mystery man had succeeded where he'd failed. Still, the pleasure he gets from riling Sara up overrides his unease, and he waits for her to burst into angered stammering, curse his name and praise her man's.

To his surprise, however, she's silent. Her trembling hands fall to her side, and she stares at him. For a second- and it's so short he's sure he's only imagined it- he thinks he sees fear in her eyes.

“N-none of your goddamn business!" The other farmer is practically trembling as she advances upon him. "It weren't even yer farm anyhow, s-so git. Right now."

“That’s not what the Union contract said,” Pete sings, trying to bait an explosion, a confession to clear the mystery. Now his earlier unease is gone, replaced with a burning curiosity- he has to know who this man is, so he can buy him a drink and then punch his lights out. “But of course, they’re gone now, aren’t they? All thanks to little Miss Wilder- and _Mister_ Wilder, right?” He smirks as she gapes at him, speechless. “Who is he?”

“Get. Out.” There's a rage in her voice that convinces him to listen, backing up as she advances on him with fire in her eyes. “Before I do something I regret.”

“Fine fine.” He feigns indifference, turning on his heel. “If yer gonna be such a stick in the mud, I’ll go.”

"Good!" She all but shouts. "And stay out!"

"It was... good to see you again, Sar." He pauses at the door, turning to look back at her. "I'm glad to see you're doing well. I... I worried a lot about you, while I was away."

“Really?” She smiles sweetly, and for a moment, he thinks he's won her over. And then, her expression changes, and he's out on his ass outside the shop.

“I didn’t think about you for a second.” The door slams shut. As he hears the deadbolt slide into place, he feels a certain sense of déjà vu.

She hasn’t changed a bit.

~ ~ ~

Pete has to hand it to Sara- she’s taken Citrus by the balls. There's not a business in town she doesn’t have a hand in, and every last one turns him away when he tries to go in, apologetically citing some excuse before shutting the door in his face. After the millionth fake smile, he decides that he’s had about enough- Daisy could hound him all she wanted, but he wasn't going to stand for this behavior and hang around just for her sake.

Unfortunately for him, the ferry isn't back from the city. Fortunately, the Inn is nearby, and an establishment that big can't afford to shut down just to keep him out. He decides to take a hot meal there before heading home- if nothing else, he can tell Daisy about this.

“… A fine baby girl. Takes after her papa.”

“… Grasslands razed entirely, and another housing lot…”

“And her outfit! _Disgraceful_!”

Pete chews on his food, trying to ignore the gossip around him. In the two years he'd lived here, he'd never felt at home on Citrus Island- he has no interest in hearing about the trials and tribulations of his so-called friends now. All he wants to do is finish his admittedly delicious meal and leave- head back to Rosebud and never think about Citrus again.

“… And no dessert for you tonight, mister. I ain’t gonna reward ya for that spill, hear?”

Pete nearly chokes on his sandwich as a familiar voice hits his ears. He turns, wincing as he catches Sara herding her children into the store nosily. Her daughter, Tina, is grinning wildly as she trips along next to her mother; by contrast, her son, Adam, is sulking, trailing behind the pair by a considerable length.

Citrus wasn't going to give him the clean break he needed after all.

“But _Ma_!”

“‘But Ma’ nothing. You mind yer sister at the booth while I go order your food.”

“It ain’t fair,” Adam complains. “ _Dad_ wouldn’t punish me.”

“He ain’t here, is he?” Sara retorts, smacking her son’s behind lightly. “Git to the table, you, and for the last time, he ain’t-“

Sara falls silent as she finally notes Pete's presence. Their eyes lock with each other from across the room, and he forgets for a moment the bitter history between them, brought back to that day long ago when she'd said 'I will.' Theres the same trepidation in her eyes as there had been that day, along with a certain fear that perplexes him even now.

"We'll ask him to have dinner with us tomorrow, okay?" Sara turns back to her kids, the fear in her eyes replaced with steely resolve. "Let's just get some take-out and head home."

“But Friday nights are _Inn_ nights!” Adam stomps his feet. “If we leave, he won’t know we’re here.”

Tina nods enthusiastically, her pigtails bouncing.

"I'm sorry, my babies," Sara sighs, kneeling before her children. "It just ain't possible tonight. I know I promised but..."

Tina sniffs loudly, her bottom lip trembling. Sara places her hands on her daughter's shoulders, a tender expression on her race.

"Tiny. Ya know I wouldn't break my promise if I didn't need to, right? I promise Daddy knows where to find us. I-"

“Hiya, Mister!”

Pete nearly drops his fork, shocked to find that there is a small child crawling up his leg. He pushes himself away from the bar, allowing Adam to plant himself in his lap.

“Um… hello there?” He clears his throat, baffled. “Can I help you...?”

“That food looks good!” Adam points at Pete’s dinner. “Can I have it?”

“...What?” Pete manages, watching in shock as Adam goes to town anyway. He has to hand it to the kid- he can really put it away. The last time he'd seen an appetite like that, he'd been living here, with Adam's mother. He glances helplessly her way as the child demolishes his supper. In addition to the voracious appetite, the kid seems to have inherited Sara’s complexion and the color of her hair- though Adam's is rather unruly, a shock of it sticking straight out from beneath his cap.

Pete doesn’t know why, it gives him the strangest sense of déjà vu.

“Shanks,” Adam mumbles around a mouthful of food. He turns his baby blues on Pete, sniffing dramatically. “Mom wasn’t gonna feed me otherwise.”

“ _You rotten little liar_!” Neither of them has time to react before Adam is unceremoniously dumped onto the floor by his irate mother. "Adam Wilder, you stop talkin' to strangers this instant!"

"Ow!" Adam hops up from the ground immediately, rubbing his rear comically. Pete's glad, at least, that he's unhurt by his mother's manhandling. "Ma, that hurt!"

“Leave the asshole alone and let’s get home.”

“Don’t ya owe me an apology, Sar?” Pete asks wryly. “After all, he did eat my dinner. I thought ‘round these parts that calls for you to buy me a meal.”

“Bullshit,” She snarls, grabbing Adam’s arm as he tries to make another pass at the food. “You can afford to buy another, Mr. Hotshot.”

“Even so,” He grunts, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s the custom.”

“ _Fuck_ the custom. I ain’t shellin’ out a dime for you, Pete Sanders!”

“Uh, Ma?” Even the child looks alarmed at Sara's explosion. Around them, the Inn has grown quiet, and Pete can feel the burn of curious eyes at his back. "That's a bad word."

“Hush, Adam. Mommy’s about to choke a-”

“As interesting as it is to watch you corrupt your children...” Pete points behind her. “Look.”

Sara's face goes white as she turns to find her daughter in the throes of a temper tantrum. Little Tina has tossed herself onto the floor, her little limbs and fists pounding the wood as her face grows bright red, like a cherry tomato. Not a sound escapes her lips, which somehow makes the fit all the more terrifying.

“Tina, baby, what’s the matter?” Sara drops Adam’s arm and rushes to her daughter’s side, crouching down beside her. “Tell Mommy what’s happening, sugar.”

Pete watches as Tina puts a shaking hand to her mouth, bringing her fingers together to tap them against her mouth. He has no idea what the gesture is supposed to mean, but it obviously means something to Sara, who immediately looks vexed.

“Baby, I know what I promised, but we can’t. Not today. We’re still gonna get food, but I-" She yelps as Tina starts to flail anew, a flying fist nearly catching her in the eye. "Tina Elizabeth, you stop that right now!"

"Goddess' sake."

The first murmur is soft, but Sara immediately whips around in horror, her face turning red as more people voice their discontent, the murmurs growing steadily louder.

"Miss Sara?" A waitress pauses beside her, a notepad clutched to her chest. "Should I..."

"My usual, Cecelia, if ya would." Sara wearily bundles Tina into her arms, standing up. "As quick as you can."

"To go?" She reaches over to pat Tina's head, shooting Sara a look of understanding. "I'll ask the chef to hurry."

"Yer a life saver, Ceci." Sara turns her attention back to her daughter, kissing her wet cheek. “There there, Tina, you’re okay. You’re a good girl.”

Pete frowns, staring at little girl in Sara’s arms. She looks oddly more content now, and he swears he can see a shit-eating grin on her face as Sara promises her sweets for desert, and pudding at breakfast. Some good girl- Sara'd played right into her hands.

Not that he'd have done any better in her place.

“Hey, mister?” Adam tugs on Pete’s leg again, whispering rather loudly. “Can I have that food again? While Mom ain’t lookin’?”

“Adam Wilder, you cut that crap out right now, or I’ll ask Ms. Ceci to send yer dessert back.” She sighs as Adam trots over, hiding his face against her leg. “Stop being so cute, kid.”

“ ‘M adorable,” He mumbles, his voice muffled. “ ‘Dorable as shit.”

“Damn straight.” She shifts Tina to one hip so she can ruffle Adam’s hair. “My adorable little munchkins... ya need something?"

This is directed at Pete, who jumps uneasily. He hadn't meant to stare so obviously at the little family- though doing so had further cemented his belief that they'd mostly taken after her, both in looks and personality. Still, there was something else in them that he knew almost intimately, something he wishes he could blurt out at Sara as she stares him down accusingly, waiting for his answer.

Oh well.

“Nah," He replies cooly, leaning against the bar. "Was just gonna say they're clearly your brats."

"Whose else would they be?" She fires back. "Ain't I the one who carried them?"

"Sure." He hesitates, staring at Adam as the boy lifts his face from Sara's leg to look around. "Except there's something else about them... something familiar..."

“Ceci! The food, please!” There's a note of panic in her voice as she hugs Adam closer. “Q-quit usin’ yer brains, Pete. Goddess knows ya don’t got much begin with. Better save it for choosing what beer yer gonna guzzle tonight.”

“ _Ouch_ ,” He laughs. “I was just gonna say that Adam must favor his dad. Those blue eyes aren’t on your side of the family, are they?”

“ _No_ ,” Sara breathes, looking visibly relieved. “I mean, yes- my mother had blue eyes. Like forget-me-nots.”

"That's right," He replies softly, remembering the small picture frame she'd kept perched on her bed stand. Her mother had been a beautiful woman- Sara took a lot after her. "Like forget-me-nots. But Adam-"

"Your food is ready, Miss Sara." The waitress has returned, her arms laden with plastic bags of food. "Do you need me to come with you to deliver it?"

"Oh thank the Goddess." She shakes her head, holding her free arm out for the bags. "I won't be needin' that tonight, Ceci, but thank ya. Just put it on my tab and- I'll fill ya in later, when the kids come over to play with Cliff."

"Not a problem, Miss Wilder." The girl offers a smile, her eyes darting over to Pete briefly. "I'll be looking forward to it. Have a good night."

"You too, Ceci." Sara smiles back before turning her attention to her kids. "C'mon, Adam, let's-"

“Wait.” Pete stands up, blocking the other farmer’s path as she tries to leave. “I gotta ask you something.”

“Pete.” Her eyes narrow. “If I see you again, I won’t hesitate to shoot you, got it?” There’s a tense few moments before her steely expression is replaced by a sugary sweet smile. “Thanks for visiting Citrus though! It’s tourists like you who help keep this place going!”

 _Tourist_. Pete winces at the word. As much as he hates to admit it, she's right- he isn't a native here anymore. A tourist is all he'll ever be now.

Reluctantly, he steps aside, watching as Sara prods her son with the bags of food. Her fake smile has turned genuine, and he feels a certain ache in his chest to see it.

Once upon a time, she'd only smiled that smile for him.

“Let’s go, black hole. Before the food gets too cold to eat.”

“Oh no!” Adam yells, nearly falling on his face in his haste to get to the door. “Let’s go, Mom, let’s _go_!”

As the family leaves, little Tina waves from over her mother's shoulder, a big grin splitting her tear-stained face. Pete can't help but wave back, a wave of regret washing over him as the door closes behind them. Goddess, who _was_ the ass who’d fathered such adorable kids with her? He couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew the culprit quite well- which made him even angrier. Whoever he was, he'd better watch out- when Pete found him, he'd kick his ass for touching _his_ woman.

With a snort, Pete returns to his seat. His woman. For a second, he'd almost forgotten her hateful words the night she'd expelled him from her life, severing the bond between them. She isn't his, and that suits him just fine. He'd dodged a bullet, and he almost pities the poor guy who'd ended up taking his place.

_Almost._

“Waitress,” He calls, returning to his seat. “A beer, please.”

Sara has her own life now, and he has his. More importantly, this was his first free night off in years, and he intends to enjoy it to the fullest.

Screw Sara Wilder. He’s going to have fun tonight.

~ ~ ~

“I told ya I’d shoot ya if I saw you again.”

Pete blinks his eyes open, wincing as his head throbs painfully. The memories of last night are a blur, as is his vision- still, he can make out the business end of a pickaxe being shoved into his face, as well as the general form of his very irritated ex-fiancée.

This was _not_ his idea of a wakeup call.

“Sar…?" He groans. "...That ain’t a gun.”

“Wiseass, huh?” She smirks. “Well, I left the shot gun back at the house. I figured it might be more fun to gouge your eyes out with this.”

“When’d you get so morbid?” He wonders, shutting his eyes as she laughs. "Old man Harry would be so disappointed."

“Don’t you _dare_ speak his name!” He feels cold metal on his skin, and braces himself for the worst. “My father would be proud of me- I saved our home, _and_ our land, without any help from the likes of _you_!”

“Sar, I…” He opens his eyes, frowning as something pink behind her comes into focus. “Oh. Hello there, little miss.”

“Huh?” Sara turns around, groaning loudly as her daughter hops closer, waving wildly. The pickaxe lies in the soil, forgotten. “Tina! What got you out of bed this time, baby?”

The little girl’s feet are bare and filthy with new soil, but neither mother nor daughter seem to care. Tina grins as she's lifted up into Sara’s arms, pointing at Pete and gesturing frantically. Pete watches curiously as Tina repeatedly puts her fingers to her mouth, prompting an exasperated Sara to respond with both her voice and her free hand.

“But sweetheart, this here’s a bad man. Mommy was going to chop him up for fertilizer.” Tina makes a short gesture, and Sara groans. "Miss, no."

"Um..." Pete hesitates as two pairs of dark eyes turn his way. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm lost."

“Lil Bit has invited you to share our breakfast," Sara says finally, rolling her eyes. "But ya gotta cook, hear?"

“Fine by me." Pete sits up with a groan, offering the little girl a warm smile. "Thank ya kindly, Miss Tina. I suppose you got your nice side from your pa, huh?"

"Hardly," Sara snorts, even as Tina nods enthusiastically. "We're going in. Don't forget to wash up before you come in."

"I know-"

"In the hot spring." She wrinkles her nose. "You stink."

Tina grins and holds her nose, waving as Sara spins on her heel and carries her off towards the house. Pete is left behind to ponder his crazy night, and how he'd ended up _here_ of all places.

"Oh..." He stands up, recognizing his surroundings with a start. These had been his crop fields, once upon a time. "... What the hell?"

He'd expected to see some change to it, after six year- but not _this_ much. Gone are his carefully planned rows of crops, replaced instead with grass as far as the eye can see. She'd turned it into a rancher's dream, with new, unfamiliar animal barns dotting the northern half. The southern half still has crops, though far less than they'd contained in his day.

Though he hates to admit it, Sara's done well for herself. As Pete stumbles his way back towards the main farm, he feels an inkling of shame creep up from the depths of his heart.

She may be doing well, but she isn't the Sara he'd fallen in love with- and that's his fault entirely. His Sara had been clumsily honest, her heart worn proudly on her sleeve- this one is cold, closed off. He wonders if she's this steely towards her husband- and again he wonders who the lucky bastard is.

He supposes he’ll get to find out today, at any rate.

“About time,” Sara chides when he finally comes in from washing up. “Take yer boots off at the door and get in the kitchen.” She pauses, sniffing the air. “… Did you use Adam’s body wash?”

“What? I can’t rock blueberry?” He teases, toeing off his boots. “I didn't want to smell like rotting flowers. Honestly, when’d you get so girly?”

If he's being honest, he rather likes the delicate, floral scent she's switched over to. When they’d lived together, she’d clung to using her father’s old things, smelling more masculine at times than even he had. He hadn't much minded, of course- they all had their own ways of coping with loss, and he preferred the scent of Old Spice to the sound of her muffled tears.

“Get bent.” She looks flustered at his observation, which makes him smile. "Asshole."

It feels weird, being back here. Despite all the changes, it almost feels like stepping back in time. The old wooden table remains where it always has, though a cheery tablecloth now covers the surface and the splintering benches are upholstered with plush seats. The vase he'd bought her sits in the middle, a haphazard arrangement of wildflowers plopped into it. Above the fireplace is a family portrait of Sara and her children, and a small basket of toys is tucked next to the television.

For the first time, their house feels like a home.

“Are ya lost?” Sara asks sarcastically, snapping him out of his revierie. “Kitchen is that way.”

“I know that,” He fires back. “I just… what happened to our bedroom?”

“Oh?” She follows his gaze. The beds they'd once shared are gone now, replaced with comfy couches. At the far end, a closed white door indicated a new wing to the house. "Ya like it? I supervised the construction myself. We needed more rooms, after all."

"Wha-"

“Now git in the kitchen. The kids are hungry as anything first thing in the morning, and I got chores to do.” She hesitates, staring up at him. “Think I can leave you here while I go finish with my animals?”

“I won’t eat them, Sar,” He teases. “I’m good with kids.”

“ _Don’t_ call me that!” The spell is broken, and her walls are back up. “Just get cooking!”

The door slams behind her, and he winces at the sound. Same old Sara. He can't say he's missed her temper- even now in Rosebud, he jumps at the sound of a slamming door. Still, it's a little heartening to see that some things stayed the same, even as everything else changed.

“Hi, Miss Tina.” The patter of little feet and a hand on his leg herald the arrival of the girl, who is fully dressed this time, with her hair down around her shoulders. Without her pigtails, she looks strikingly like her mother. "Come to help me with breakfast?"

She nods, lifting her hands to the sky. He can't help but laugh as he picks her up, settling her on his hip.

“So how d’ya feel about pancakes, Tina? I make the best ones around, ya know.” He laughs as she claps her hands eagerly. “Okay, okay. It’s decided then- pancakes for breakfast.”

Hanging out with Tina is a different experience entirely from babysitting Rosie's brats. For one thing, they don't have to play twenty questions- Tina merely points, and Pete answers to the best of his ability. Though she's completely inept at cooking, like most children her age, Tina tries her best to keep the mess to a minimum- something Pete appreciates after watching the messiest siblings on the planet. Though it takes them twice as long to prepare the meal as it would take him solo, he finds he doesn't much mind the wasted time. In fact, he finds himself having fun. There's a certain joy to be had in teaching someone who wants to learn- he can't keep the smile off his face as he teaches Tina the best way to crack an egg, and how to stir batter without splattering. Watching how her face lights up when they flip the first pancake together, how delighted she is by her new abilities- he feels a strange, new feeling bubble up inside him, one he'd never felt with Rosie's children.

Pride.

“I’m gonna get the rest of this myself, so you stand back.” He sets her down, motioning her away from the open flame. “Why don’t you help me by-”

A loud clattering from the next room startles him into silence.

“Tina… who is that?” Pete shoots a confused look at the little girl, who isn't ruffled in the slightest. "Is someone else home?"

She grins widely, putting a hand shaped like a gun to her forehead. When she’s sure he’s looking, she brings it down on her other hand, which is making another little finger gun. She does it once more, slowly, and then faster.

“Uh… Tina.” Pete shakes his head. “Darling, I don’t understand what you’re doing.”

The little girl sighs heavily. Grabbing his hand, she tugs him into the main room, just in time to catch Adam stumbling in from the other wing of the house, still dressed in blue footie pajamas. Again, she makes the same, strange gesture, and points.

“Is that the sign for ‘Adam?’” Ignoring Tina’s scowl, he walks over to the small boy, who has seated himself at the table with his head in his arms. “Good morning, Adam."

“Food, Mom!” Adam’s voice is muffled by the table cloth. “Hurry it!”

“He ain’t much a morning person, is he?” Pete stage-whispers to Tina, who masks a silent giggle behind her hand. “Let’s surprise him.”

He gives her the coveted task of carrying the syrup, while he himself handles the heavier pancake platters. The minute they set Adam’s in front of him, he springs to life, shoveling food into his mouth with reckless abandon. Only when the plate is empty does he look up, staring at Pete with a confused expression.

“Hullo.” He swallows hard. “Are you supposed to be here? Or am I supposed to get the gun?” This question is directed at Tina, who shrugs.

“Your sister here invited me, and your mother made me cook." He hadn’t realized parenting could hit a new low, but here they were. "Your call, little man.”

After a moment's hesitation, Adam shrugs.

“I guess you can stay. But only till Dad gets here.” He stands up in his chair, grabbing a handful of pancakes. “We don’t got enough space for you.”

Tina nods, walking around to sit beside her brother. As Pete passes her plate over, she grins, clinking her silverware together before digging in. Despite her efforts in the kitchen, she's a sloppy eater just like her brother- no, like her mother. Pete stifles a smile as he pours syrup for them, recalling a similar scene years before with their mother.

There's something to be said for genetic inheritance.

“So then. What do you guys usually drink with breakfast?” He asks as the feeding frenzy slows down. "Juice, water-"

“Chocolate milk!” Adam cheers, banging his sticky hands on the table. His sister elbows him hard, shaking her head. “Ow! Tina!”

“I think I’m going to trust her judgment here, squirt.” Pete offers an apologetic grin. “I just don’t see Sar as the type to load you up on sugar first thing in the morning.”

“Why does everyone listen to Tina? It just ain’t fair,” Adam whines, stabbing angrily at his pancakes. “Why ya gotta listen to her, Mister?”

“Cause you’re a liar, kiddo.” Sara walks in through the back door, pausing to kick off her boots. "Good morning."

"Mom!" Adam complains, wrinkling his nose as she presses a kiss to his cheek. "I ain't a liar!"

"Uh huh." Sara rolls her eyes, throwing her braided hair over her shoulder as she bends to kiss Tina. "An' I ain't a farmer. He didn’t poison ya, did he?”

“I would _never_!” Pete growls. “Unlike some people I know, I don’t feel that need.”

“Good,” Sara smiles, ignoring his jab entirely. “Cause I’d kill ya otherwise.”

"Hmmph." He crosses his arms over his chest, scowling as she sniffs the air. "Like what you smell?"

“Yeah, actually." She looks his way, a content smile on her face. "Been a while since the house smelled like this. Ya did good, Pete."

“Yeah?” He grins, turning to the kids. "Your mother never used to cook, you know. Could hardly boil an egg without starting a fire."

"Woah!" Adam's eyes widen, and Tina nosily drops her fork to the floor. "No way! Mom's the best cook _ever_."

"Thanks to me," Pete boasts, narrowly avoiding a slap from Sara. "Hey, watch it!"

"Then shut the fuck up," Sara snaps, effectively dispelling the happy atmosphere. "No more stories. I'm gonna go wash up for breakfast. Mind my kids."

The slamming of the door, as always, marks her exit.

“.... Prickly, isn’t she?” Pete asks the twins, quietly passing an extra fork over to Tina. "I'm sorry about that."

To his surprise, neither of the twins looks particularly phased by the blowup. Tina accepts the fork and resumes eating sloppily, while Adam stretches forward to grab another pancake from the center platter.

“Mom’s nice. She’s just very busy.” Adam plops back into his seat. “She’s always playing with us though.”

Tina nods, her hands dancing in the air. Pete winces as bits of pancake and syrup fly everywhere- so much for a clean meal. Adam stops eating in order to watch her, his lips moving as he decodes some sort of sense from her strange hand game.

“Tina says she agrees.” He shovels more pancake into his mouth. "An' 'e lo's us, 'oo."

“Wait- _what_?!" Pete stares between the twins, wondering if they have that telepathy thing he's heard so much about- but no, _Sara_ had been interpreting the hand gestures earlier too. "How-"

“Howdy, kiddos.” Sara plops herself between her children, pulling a plate over for herself. She barks commands almost on autopilot, not looking up as she serves herself. “Chew with your mouths closed- Tina, baby, don’t swing your feet. Adam, remember to breathe between mouthfuls, please. I ain't doin' no CPR before ten AM.” It takes her a moment to register Pete's presence, and even then, she hesitates before addressing him. "... What are you doing here?"

“Eating the breakfast I made,” He sniffs, sipping his juice. “First ferry ain’t till eight.”

“I know that.” She reaches over to wipe Adam's mouth, pushing an escaping piece of pancake back onto Tina's plate. "Just don't talk to me."

"Fine."

A good twenty minutes pass before the twins finally feel full, and Sara herself declines seconds in favor of a strange green shake she pulls from the refrigerator to guzzle down.

“So?” Sara finally breaks the silence. "What were you doing in my fields, anyhow? Didn’t ya see the ‘no trespassing’ sign?”

“I might have,” Pete says calmly, reaching for his orange juice. “Then again… I was so drunk last night that I don’t know what I saw.”

“Idiot.” She rolls her eyes. “Guess I shoulda expected that answer. Always were a light-weight, weren’t ya?”

“Well ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black?” He fires back. "They don't call you 'Wild Wilder' for no reason, Sar."

"Hey-"

“Mom? What’s ‘drunk?’” Adam wonders aloud, interrupting the conversation and earning a swat from his mother.

“Don’t eavesdrop on conversations, little pitcher,” She chides, ruffling his hair. “Yer not old enough for that kinda knowledge anyhow.”

"Mom!"

“Aw, Sar, let it be. It’s good for a kid to be curious.” Pete offers Adam a grin. “Well, kiddo, drunk is-”

“Don’t you dare tell my son-”

“Good morning!”

Four pairs of eyes turn to look at the tall, big-boned man standing in the doorway. Adam and Tina are the first to react, practically falling out of their chairs in order to greet him.

“Daddy, Daddy!” Adam cheers, nearly knocking the man over. “You’re just in time! A drunk made us breakfast!”

“Huh?” He hugs the twins close, looking rather confused. “What’s that, son?”

“Howdy, partner.” Sara’s smile is brighter than the sun as she flies across the room to join her children. Pete's stomach twists as she’s picked up and twirled around, her happy laughter filling the room. “Ain’t you in a good mood this morning?”

“Of course! Guess who is leading in the poles this morning? At this rate, we’re going to…” He trails off, staring past the woman in his arms to the man still sitting at the table. “Oh.”

“Long time no see, Bigbee.”

Honest to Goddess, he was going to puke. _Bigbee_ was the father of her adorable children? There had to be a mistake. Sara would never just settle for a guy like him.

“What are you doing here, you scumbag?!” The bigger man had always been rather soft-spoken, from what Pete remembered, but given the circumstances in which he'd left, he supposed the hostility is warranted. “How _dare_ you show your face in this town again?!”

“Hey, relax, it’s okay.” Sara pats his arm, twisting to look at Pete. Somehow, she seems to glow even brighter in his arms, like she belongs there. “I invited him in to cook for me so I could get the chores done. He ain’t staying much longer though. Right, Pete?”

“... Yeah.” He swallows, standing up. “Got a ferry to catch and all. Thanks for having me over, Sara. Good- good to see you've done so well for yourself." He clears his throat, extending his hand cordially. "Bigbee. Good to see you again."

"Get lost."

"Okay..." Pete drops his hand, stuffing it into his pocket. "I'm going to go... put my boots on. Then I'll be out of your hair for good."

“I would have cooked,” Bigbee complains as he walks past. “He’s got a lot of nerve showing up here, Sar.”

“Bigbee, quiet. I can handle this, you know I can...” She sounds apologetic, but more self-assured than he's ever heard her. "It's okay. Just let it go."

He's in the middle of lacing his boots when a small hand falls over his. He looks up to see Tina standing next to him, her dark brown eyes shiny with unshed tears. She raises her arms for a hug and he obliges, feeling her hot tears seep through his shirt. He doesn't want to leave her- never in his life has he felt this sort of possessiveness over another human being, not even Sara- but he has no choice. She isn't his and she never will be.

“Aw honey. I don’t live here, ya know. I gotta go home.” He winces as she clings to him, her nails digging into his skin. “Tina…”

“Give her here.” Sara leaves Bigbee’s arms to scoop up her child, rubbing her back as she sobs. “Tina, baby, no more tears. Ya know he can't stay- it’s time to be a big girl.” She glances over at Pete, a conflicted expression upon her face as she looks between him and her child. “You… you should go.”

“I know.” He stands up, dusting himself off. She's right- he doesn't belong here after all. “Well, for what it was worth, it was nice. Glad to see ya found someone to take care of you.” He waves at Adam, ignoring Sara’s flinch. “Bye, kids.”

“Don’t come back.” Bigbee’s voice is cold as he follows Pete to the door. “ _Ever_.”

Pete winces as the door slams shut in his face. He understands the hostility- in Bigbee's place, he'd have acted the same way. Still, there's something over-the-top about the man's behavior that just pisses him off- even _Sara_ wasn't as bitter, and she's the one he'd hurt in the first place!

“Leaving already?” Even old man Kirk seems grouchier than usual, glaring at him with a knowing expression. "That was quick."

“Yeah, I gotta get home. Farm to run and all.” He hands over his ticket, stepping onto the ferry. "How long till we set sail?"

“So soon?” Kirk gives him a searching look before turning away. “Well, suit yourself. We cast off in ten, so take a seat.”

Pete sinks onto the bench with a sigh of relief, his head pounding from the recent events, and the hangover he'd never gotten to treat. It's been an exhausting twenty four hours, that's for sure. His eyes flutter shut, and the next thing he knows, Kirk is shaking him awake.

"We've arrived," He informs him curtly. "Get out."

“Thanks, Kirk,” He mumbles, wiping drool from his chin. “See you around, maybe?”

“I hope not.”

So she _had_ been spreading tales after all. Unladylike or not, Sara Wilder was a woman, through and through. He hopes he never has to see or hear about her ever again.

“Um, excuse me. Sir?”

Pete looks up from his coffee, biting back a groan. His next ferry didn't leave for another hour, and he'd hoped to catch a break to refuel between then and now.

No rest for the wicked, it seemed.

“Yes?” He turns around forcing a smile onto his face. “How may I help- Tina!”

“I think she got separated from your wife- I found her wandering around just outside the store.” The woman hands a wiggling Tina over, offering a tired smile. “Don’t scold her too much, okay? These things happen. Just make sure you meet up with your wife soon, okay? I'm sure she's worried sick.”

“I bet she is... Thank you.” Pete's smile falls the minute the woman leaves the shop. “Tina, what are you up to? Where is Sara?”

The little girl shakes her head, making another one of her strange gestures. Before he can ask her anything, she gives him a big hug, snuggling her face into his chest.

"Hey," He tries, patting her back awkwardly. "I don't need cute, I need answers. Where is Sara?"

She taps her fingers against her cheek and makes herself comfortable. Pete resists the urge to shake her, instead settling on ruffling her hair.

"Tina... is your mother at home?"

She lifts her head, nodding firmly. Pete's stomach twists uncomfortably.

“And your brother?” Another nod. “… Your dad?” A third nod, and another snuggle. “Ah _shit_.”

She’d followed him onto the boat and into the city, the sneaky little mouse. She probably thought herself right clever.

“Okay, kiddo, let me finish my coffee and then you and I are taking the ferry back to Citrus, okay?”

Tina nods, resting her head on his shoulder. With a yawn, she drifts off in his arms. Pete, meanwhile, stares miserably into his now-cold coffee.

Sara is going to murder him.

~ ~ ~

“Gone…?”

Pete stares at the empty dock in dismay. No one had informed him that Kirk didn’t stick around anymore- in the past, he'd always waited for him and Sara to finish their city chores before heading back to Citrus.

"Yes sir. The ferry does two round trips from Citrus. The next one won't be for another four hours."

Today just isn't his day.

“Your mother has four hours to think of ways to make my death extremely painful, Tina,” He informs the little girl at his side. She looks up, curling her fingers around his. “Why’d ya come out here, lil bit? Ain’t ya got better things to do than make my life difficult?”

She offers a tiny shrug, bouncing on her heels.

“Okay… four hours….” He shrugs, picking her up and settling her on his shoulders. “I guess we can go shopping. Hang on tight, lil bit.”

Shopping with Tina is surprisingly easy- and comfortable. Unlike Rosie's children, she doesn't race away hollering like a madman- instead, she clings to his side like a baby chick, silently gesturing at this and that. Every so often, she sends him a smile that melts his heart. He has to hand it to Sara- she’s raised a damn good kid.

If only he hadn't screwed up so badly all those years ago.

“Okay, so we have a doll for you, a truck for your brother…” Pete adjusts the bags in his hands. “Now to get something for your mother." Just the thought of Sara makes his blood run cold. She'll run him through with that pickaxe for sure for absconding with her child, accidental though it was. "You know, your grandpa taught her how to kill a man at twenty paces. I’m dead meat, lil bit.”

Tina’s nose crinkles, and she does that odd silent laugh of hers, mouth open and shoulders shaking. Somehow, it’s infectious, and he can’t help but laugh too.

“Laughing at the idea of me in pain. You sure are Sara’s kid.” He pauses, considering. “I don’t really know what your mom might like… even though we lived together for two years.” He frowns. “She only ever liked food though… and…”

His mind gets caught up in the memories of their last night together, all the things they’d done that they’d never do again. She has Bigbee now, after all- she'd never let him that close again.

The thought of the giant man and tiny Sara Wilder together makes his blood boil, for some reason. Sure, they both had the right to move on. Heck, he’d even dated around a bit after moving back home. But of all people she could have chosen to replace him, why that tub of lard?

Tina suddenly yanks her hand free of his and darts ahead, her little red shoes pounding the pavement.

“Tina! Stop! Get back here!”

She’s surprisingly fast for a kid, and the crowded streets do not make things easier for him. He nearly loses her a few times, and is close to having a heart attack by the time she finally slows to a halt.

"Tina..." It's ice cream that she's stopped her, and he finds her carefully climbing up one of the barstools, her determined expression somehow reminding him of King Kong.

He'd laugh if he wasn't so close to tears from nearly losing her.

“Goddess’ sake, you’re a bad girl!” He puts the bags down, yanking her off the stool before she can fall and hurt herself. “How dare you run off like that, huh? What if a stranger had snatched you?”

Tina pouts, tears welling up in her dark eyes. She sniffles once, staring at him dolefully as she scuffs her foot on the ground, the perfect picture of innocence.

“Oh no you don’t. That isn’t going to work on me. You did a bad thing and- damn it, Tina." He shakes her hard. "I almost lost you today, did you know that? Some man could have snatched you up and I'd have never seen you again." His voice wavers. "Do you hear me? I almost _lost_ you today!"

One tear rolls down her cheek, and then another. Before Pete knows it, Tina is a blubbering mess, reaching out for him in silent apology. He hugs her hard, muttering a silent prayer of thanks as he breathes in her scent.

“Damn it, kid, just be careful.” He rubs her back as she sobs against his shoulder. Somehow she'd captured his heart in a few short hours, and he never wants to let go of her again. “I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you. Promise me you won't do it again?"

With a sniffle, Tina pulls away, extending her pinky towards him. He locks his bigger one with hers, smiling softly.

"Good girl." He kisses her forehead, allowing her to snuggle back into his shoulder. "You've made Dad- I mean. I'm very happy."

“Cute kid.” Pete glances up, noticing the smirking teen standing at the counter for the first time. “You should buy her some ice cream.”

"Uh..." Great, a sales pitch. He's _really_ not in the mood for one of those today. "I really shouldn't. She's in trouble."

"So?"

"So she's in trouble. I’m... not supposed to give her nice things if she’s in trouble.” He frowns, realizing how stupid he sounds. “... We’ll pass, thanks.”

“C'mon, mister, don't be such a hard ass dad." Pete moves to cover Tina's ears, stopping when he realizes she's probably heard much worse at home. "All kids run off at some point or another. And she's still little- let her live. If you keep coming down hard on her like this, she'll run off for good as soon as she's able."

"I-"

"And anyway, mister. I haven't had a customer all day!" Her voice drops into a wheedle. "Humon your kid, I'm begging you. Buy her something, will ya?"

“You drive a hard bargain,” Pete muses, deciding to let the daughter comment slide. Enough people have done it today that he suddenly doesn't mind the mistake- in fact, he almost wishes... "Tina, what flavor do you want?"

She lifts her tearstained face from his shoulder and sniffles. For a moment, she looks eerily like her mother, and he's hit with a sudden wave of guilt.

It was all his fault. If he hadn't pushed Sara to leave Citrus with him- if he'd listened to her, talked things through, then perhaps this would have been his life. He'd be the one she lit up a room for, not that bowtied asshole- the girl in his arms would be _his_ daughter, not Bigbee's. He'd ruined everything, and he knows he'll never get a second chance with her- not now, after everything. He has to make it up to her, somehow.

What better way than to spoil her kid?

“I should have guessed you’d go with strawberry,” He laughs as they’re eating together a short time later. “That’s your mother’s favorite too.”

Tina grins at him, her entire face covered in sticky pink.

“Gee, did you have to stick your entire face in it? Little piggy. Hold still.” Pete grabs a napkin. “Let’s clean you up.”

As he’s carefully wiping her face, the strange sense of déjà vu returns. Of course, there is no arguing that this kid looks like Sara- they’re practically clones, bearing the same face, the same shade of brown hair- Tina even smiles like her mother, crinkling her nose in the exact same way.

The eyes are where they differ. Tina’s eyes are darker, of a different shape entirely from Sara’s- sharper than her mother's, more piecing. Oddly, they remind him of his late mother’s eyes, the way they stare at him so keenly, as if they know something he doesn't. He suddenly realizes he knows those eyes- had looked into them every day growing up, had missed their gaze upon him every day since. There's only one woman who'd had eyes like this- eyes that judged mercilessly, yet made him feel safe beyond reason.

The eyes he’d inherited as well.

Pete nearly drops his chocolate ice cream as it all suddenly comes together. The twins were about five- he’d left about that long ago, give or take a few seasons. Tina’s eyes aside, Adam looked _just_ like him. And given what he and Sara had been up to around the time he’d left…

Goddess. He's been an idiot.

“Ice cream time is done,” He informs a confused Tina. “Let’s get you home. Your mother has some explaining to do.”

~ ~ ~

“Yes, that’s what I said. Brown hair, brown eyes, pink jumper, knee-high to a grasshopper- What do you mean, ‘how tall is she really?’ No, no, _fuck_ you! I’m not doing this game again! I’ve already told you this information a billion times- I just want you to find my little girl!”

Pete winces at the sound of Sara’s shrill voice, audible even from outside of the Inn doors. Tina had fallen asleep in his arms on the ferry home, and lets out a soft sigh in her sleep as he shifts her to one side to get the door. On the ride over, he’d be mentally preparing himself for her reaction, for screaming and fists and death threats.

Nothing, however, could have prepared him for this.

As they enter the Inn, they see Sara standing by the phone in tears, while Adam sits next to her on a bar stool, patting her thigh at intervals with a worried expression.

It’s with a grim sense of satisfaction that Pete notes Bigbee’s absence.

“I don’t care if you’re trying as hard as you can- try _harder_! That’s my baby!”

Tina stirs at the sound of her mother’s voice, kicking out in irritation. As her foot strikes one of the bags Pete's carrying, Adam glances their way. Immediately, his face lights up.

“ _Sissy_!” He scrambles down and runs across the Inn, practically plowing into Pete’s legs. “You came back!”

“I brought her back safe and sound just for you, little man,” Pete says cheerfully. “And a little something for you, too.”

“Oh boy!”

“I’ll tell ya again- my Tina is an _adorable_ little girl with pigtails and ruby-red shoes… oh.” Sara turns around, eyes as wide as saucers as she sees her missing little girl. “ _Oh_!” The phone clatters loudly to the floor as she flies to Pete’s side, yanking her drowsy daughter from his arms. “Thank the Goddess- Tina, I was so _scared_!” She kisses the top of her head, tears coursing down her cheeks. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“You’re welcome, Sar,” Pete say dryly. “Now don’t ya got something to say to me? Like, ‘thanks, Pete?’”

“Thanks?!” Sara turns angry red eyes on him, her grip on Tina tightening. “I should press charges.”

“Why?” He protests. “She followed me to the city- I brought her back-“

“How many hours later!? I was sick out of my mind with worry!”

“Blame Kirk for that! His damned ferry service only runs every four hours!”

“The man is _old_! That’s how it’s been for years. You’d know that if you hadn’t run out on me!”

“You _kicked_ me out!” Pete protests. "What choice did I have?"

“Mister?” Adam pats his knee, bored of the squabble. “You said you brought something for me? Where is it?”

“Adam, don’t interrupt grown up conversations!” Sara chides. “Go sit over there.”

“As a matter of fact…” Pete kneels down, thankful for the distraction. The last thing he needs to do is blow his top and lose her forever. “This is for you, little man. Call it a late birthday present.” He smirks over the little boy’s head at Sara, who looks appalled. "You had a birthday in July, if I'm not mistaken?"

“Pete, no!”

“No, we were born in May- aw _sweet_ , a truck!!” Adam grins widely, grabbing the toy. “Thanks! I’m gonna tear up the garden with this! Pew, pew!”

“No, you ain’t,” Sara tries, bending down to to grab the toy away from her excited son. “Adam, give it here!”

“Pew, pew, pew!” He careens away, ignoring his frantic mother. " _Boom_!"

“And here’s your doll, sweetie.” Pete hands the toy over to Tina, who clutches it tightly to her chest with a sleepy smile. “Treat her carefully, hear?”

“What- what are you doing?” Sara’s utterly flustered, the color high in her cheeks. “D-don’t give gifts to my kids, kidnapper!”

“You want your own, don’t you, Sar?” He chuckles. “Well, your gift is in your arms. I brought you the greatest gift of all- our daughter.”

“Our…?” Sara’s eyes grow wide, and the rosiness of her cheeks fades dead away, just as he’d expected. “W-what are you talking about?”

“I wouldn’t kidnap my own kid.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “We need to talk, Sara.”

“No, we don’t! You’re _insane_ , Pete- these aren’t your kids! How _dare_ you! You arrogant, self-centered-”

“Cut the crap, Sara! Adam looks just like me. Tina has my eyes! I’m not an idiot!”

“Yes, you _are_!” Her voice is tinged with desperation. “You’re the biggest dumb ass alive! These aren’t your kids!”

“They _are_ mine, and I have every right to know about them!” He feels another pang of guilt when she instinctively shrinks back. Was she… afraid of him? “Look, Sar, I don’t want to cause a scene if I don’t have to. Let’s just go back to the farm, get the kids to bed, and talk this out like adults.” He offers her a smile. “I don’t want a fight, Sara. Let’s just do this calmly, okay?”

“I- okay.” She shifts a wide-eyed Tina to one hip and kneels down, sticking an arm out. “C’mere, Adam.”

“I can get him,” Pete says easily, lifting the little boy up. “Got a hold of your truck there, son?”

“Don’t call him that!” Sara hisses, some of her timidity fading away. “He is _not_ your-”

“Isn’t he?” Pete asks dryly, shaking his head. “Let’s go, Sar, or would you rather we do this here where everyone can see?” He smiles as she blanches. “Good. Let’s go home.”

“It ain’t your home.” Her voice is quiet but resolute as she stiffly brushes past him. "But come on."

“What’s going on, mister?” Adam asks sleepily, yawning loudly as they walk out into the cool evening. “Are you mad at my Mommy? ‘C-cause Daddy said I should… should shoot…”

“Don’t sweat it, kiddo,” Pete says warmly. He smiles at Tina, who is looking back at them from over Sara’s shoulder. “You’ve had a long day, haven’t you? I know your sister and I did, running all over the city. It’s time for bed.”

“Don’t wanna…” The little boy yawns again. “Not yet… I wanna go to the city, too.”

“Maybe one day.” He taps his boots at the door before following Sara into the farmhouse. “One day we’ll all go together, I promise.”

"Don't count on it, Adam." Sara’s voice is tight and her face without emotion as she turns to look at him, adjusting Tina on her hip. “You'll wait here while I take care of them. Now hand him over.”

“No dice, Sar. They’re mine too.” Pete brushes past her, throwing opening the door to the new wing of her- their house. “After you, milady.”

“No, they aren’t,” Sara hisses under her breath, storming past to noisily throw open a door at the far end of the hall. He follows her quietly, rubbing Adam’s back as the kid drools on his shoulders. It's not the instant connection he'd had with Tina, but he feels a certain bond with the little guy that makes him reluctant to set him down. His small warmth is comforting, despite the plastic truck that’s banging into Pete’s thigh with every step.

He really could get used to this parenting thing.

“Adam’s on the left.” Sara opens the door. “Make sure he doesn’t have anything weird hidden on him.”

“Weird?” Pete parrots, walking in and putting Adam down on what he assumes is his bed. “I don’t follow.”

“Shut up.” She plops Tina down on her bed, turning away to cross the room again. “Wait while Mommy gets your clothes, baby.”

Pete takes the opportunity to look around, a little awed by the detailing. It’s obvious that this had once been their nursery- the walls are still painted a pale blue, with white, fluffy clouds all over, and pastel farm animals. There are lighter patches on the paint where he can tell cribs once stood, and an old changing table is in the corner, evidently now a bookshelf. “What a nice room. You did this yourself?”

“Please,” Sara snorts, rummaging in the drawers of a clothing chest. “Like I could have done anything in my condition- Bigbee did it.”

“Of _course_ he did.” Pete frowns, easing the truck from Adam’s sleepy grip. So much for that good mood. “Let’s get ready for bed, little man.”

“Don’t wanna,” Adam whines, kicking his feet. “It’s early!”

“I’ll let you pick out your pajamas,” Pete tries. To his surprise, Adam perks right up, hopping off the bed and racing to a chest identical to the one his mother is currently looking through.

“All right! Ma never lets me pick!”

“For a reason, short stuff.” Sara rolls her eyes. “Kid’s ripped too many shirts putting his coconut through the wrong hole, and I ain’t about to spend a fortune on shirts. Besides,” She continues, pulling out a pink nightdress and matching underwear. “He can’t pick an outfit for beans.”

“Can too!” Adam pouts, tossing clothes out of the chest haphazardly. “See, I want the green shirt and the… orange pants.” He grins at Pete, waving the two articles of clothing proudly. “Okay?”

“Perfectly fine by me,” Pete laughs, enjoying Sara’s displeasure. “Oh come on, he’s _five_. Who's gonna see him, his girlfriend?”

“The horrible sense of fashion must have been inherited,” She sniffs, eying Pete with distaste. He glances down, taking in his well-worn overalls and button-down flannel shirt. With such a classic look, how could he miss?

“Hey!” He protests. “You used to love how I dressed! Or…” He pauses, rubbing his chin. “Maybe you didn’t, since you were so quick to get it all off me-”

“Shut _up_!” Sara snaps, standing up with a bright red face. “Y-you just get his clothes together and then _I’ll_ take them to the bathhouse to wash up.”

“Fine.” Pete crouches before Adam. “We'll _both_ take them for a bath. You wanna set a record for stripping, little man?”

“Yeah!”

“Pete!” Sara gasps, putting her hands over Tina’s ears. “Don’t teach him stupid things like that!

“Too late,” He laughs, dodging a flying shirt. In no time at all, Adam is standing proudly in just his birthday suit, hands on his hips.

“Done! What do I win, Mister?”

“A… new pair of underwear!” Pete says quickly, grabbing a clean pair from the floor. “Congratulations!”

“What a boring prize,” Adam complains, scratching his stomach absently. “I wanted cookies.”

“You weren’t supposed to let him undress just yet, idiot!” Sara groans, walking over to pick up her naked son. “How stupid can you get? Damn it, just get the clothes and Tina. And _don’t_ screw that up either, hear?”

“Whatever,” He mumbles, watching her walk away. Her hips sway from size to size, and he finds himself mesmerized by the tail of her braid, twitching just above the small of her back.

 _Goddess_.

A hand on his knee snaps him out of his stupor, and he glances down at a sleepy Tina.

“Sorry, lil bit.” He grabs the clothes and scoops her up, smiling as she wraps her arms around his neck. “Let’s go rub-a-dub-dub.”

She looks up at him and wrinkles her nose in distaste, putting her thumb down. She looks just like her mother, and he can’t help laughing as he kisses her nose, earning a raspberry for his troubles. Just imagining them living all together again makes his heart soar, and he can’t help a small whoop of joy as he and Tina run out after Sara and Adam.

Things could only get better from here.

~ ~ ~

Bath time is both too long, and not long enough.

Adam, apparently, is a fan of splashing, and Tina surprises them all by sneaking out without her clothes. One long chase around the farm and three bedtime stories later, the kids are fast asleep, leaving Pete and Sara to face their long overdue talk.

“You need to call someone?” Sara says, surprising him with her civility. “You were supposed to go back home yesterday, right? Ain’t there someone at home you need to call?”

“Yeah… I suppose Daisy should know I’m not stranding her with the farm again.”

“Oh. Daisy.” He doesn’t miss the falter in her voice. “Phone’s where it always was. Just sit out there, I’ll be with you in a bit.” She disappears into the other wing of the house, leaving him alone.

Her house really has changed a lot since he’s lived here. Other than the obvious changes, there are small ones that really stick out to him- a coffee table book here, an errant toy there, a cluster of picture frames on a low table. More than ever, he gets the distinct feeling that this is a home- more than it ever had been when he’d lived with her.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I’ll be back soon."

He shakes his head as he disconnects with an amused Daisy, placing the handset back in the cradle. He considers taking a seat on the couch before one small picture frame catches his eye. Listening out for Sara, he crosses the room to pick it up, examining it closely.

In the photograph, a younger Sara is reclining against a nest of pillows, holding two tiny bundles in her arms- their children. She looks exhausted- her hair is plastered against her forehead, her face is shiny with sweat, and her eyes droop tellingly as she looks up for the photographer. But she’s smiling triumphantly, tenderly- the perfect image of a happy new mother.

He wishes he’d been there to see that smile in person.

“What are you doing?!”

“N-nothing!” Sara's cross voice makes him jump guiltily, and he nearly drops the photograph as he turns to look at the other farmer. She's dressed for bed, her arms crossed over her chest. "J-just looking."

“Well, _don’t_.” She neatly plucks the frame from his hand, frowning at it. “I thought this was in my room… Tina must be rotating the pictures again. How _embarrassing_.”

“She likes to do that?” Sara remains silent, cradling the picture to her chest. “Sara…”

“It’s a terrible picture, ain’t it?” Her voice is soft. “I look a mess… Ten hours of labor will do that to you.” She looks at Pete with a tired expression. “Go on, say it.”

“… You’re _beautiful_.” He reaches out for her, wincing when she flinches away. “I wish I could have been there to help you out…. I _should_ have been there."

“Why _should_ I have called you back?” Her voice is bitter, angry. “You walked out on me- you said I couldn’t do this alone.”

“Don’t be stupid, Sara,” He snaps. “That was then and this is- I have a responsibility to them, Sara, as their father. You- you should have told me as soon as you knew!"

“And what about me, Pete?” He’s shocked to see tears in her eyes. “Where was your responsibility to _me_? You never really loved me- our marriage was just insurance to you."

"Not true!" He argues. "I loved you more than you'll ever know."

"Not enough to ever come back to check on me." She sniffs, looking down. "You never cared about me, Pete. Admit it. You only cared if we had children or not-“

“Which we did.” His voice is gentle. “Sara, we have two beautiful children together. I- I'll quit the farm. I'll come back and we can raise our kids-“

“No. Stop it. Stop it right there.” She turns away, setting the picture frame face down. “You're not going to be any part of our lives, understand me? I won't let you. You’re going to get on that boat and go back to Rosebud first thing in the morning. And I’m never going to hear from you again.”

“Sara! Be reasonable!” Pete splutters, completely taken aback. “You can’t do that- they need a father!”

“They have Bigbee!” She snaps. “And they’ve grown up just fine without you, haven’t they?”

“Have they?” His temper is rising, fueled by the hurt he feels from her harsh words. “Adam’s got no sense of discipline, Tina runs off at the drop of a hat- and by the way, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but something is wrong with her-”

“Nothing is wrong with my baby.” Sara’s voice has gone oddly quiet. “My child… my children are perfect just the way they are. And our family is… perfect. I don’t need you. I can do this alone. I don’t need anyone. I don’t.” She shrinks away from him, the words almost a chant. “I don’t need you. I never did. I never will. Never again.”

“Sar, enough with the macho act, okay?" He sighs wearily. "Just accept you need help, and let me in.”

“Help?” She laughs incredulously. “After _six years_ you waltz in here and decide to take responsibility? Really, Pete? Where were you when the Mayor threatened to kick me out? When they burned the barn-”

“What?” His blood runs cold. “They didn’t.”

“When the Union boycotted me,” She continues, too wound up to even register his words. “When Tina never cried, when Adam stopped breathing- where were you, Pete?” Her voice breaks. “Where _were_ you?”

Pete’s stomach clenches with guilt. He’d abandoned her to the wolves without a second glance back, and she’d shouldered on alone. This little woman was simply amazing. He wordlessly reaches out for her, not entirely surprised when she shoves him away, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I… I never wanted this. I was scared- but I didn’t take anyone’s help. I did all of this alone. And my kids are perfect. My kids are my world.” She shakes her head. “And you don’t deserve any part of that.”

“Don’t I?” He asks softly. “Sar, I can help you. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

“ _Don’t_!” She snaps, glaring at him. “Call me Sar. Just don’t.” She stares down at the floor, her voice almost too soft to discern. “Who… who said I was alone, anyhow?”

“Oh.” Pete winces. Right, Bigbee. He watches as Sara bustles past him to the kitchen, listens as she fills a glass of water at the tap. By the time she returns, all traces of emotion are wiped from her face, and she regards him almost too calmly.

“You can stay on the couch. First ferry’s at eight.” Her voice sounds as if it belongs to another woman. She brushes past him easily, pausing in the doorway of the hall. “…. Night, Pete.”

“Good night….” The door clicks shut, and he’s alone. He reaches for the overturned picture frame, staring once more at Sara’s gentle smile. The smile, he realizes, he’d had a hand in killing. In leaving her behind, he’d destroyed the Sara Wilder he’d once knew. The woman who’d stood before him mere minutes before wasn’t the girl he’d fallen in love with. And he’s okay with that.  
He’s here now, and in time they’ll find that love again. He’s sure of it. They have children now. More than ever before, they are a family.

And for the sake of that family, he’ll stay.

~ ~ ~

“You wrote ‘C’ wrong. Try again!”

“Awww.”

“And Tina, concentrate on me, not on your crayons, please. Now, let’s try this again…”

Pete sits up slowly, blinking in the bright morning light. He’d slept harder than normal, evidently more exhausted by yesterday’s events than he’d expected. He turns to look at the dining table, where Sara and her children are sitting, their backs to him. Surprisingly, Sara’s got her hair loose around her shoulders and she’s dressed down today, gray sweatpants and a pink hoodie replacing her usual farm clothes.

“Okay, good, Adam, now try horse. Tina, what’s the sign for horse…?” Sara imitates the gesture her daughter provides, nodding. “Very good. Now what about this one?”

“Good morning!” Pete says cheerfully, putting a hand on Sara’s shoulder. “What are we studying today?”

The next thing he knows, he’s on the floor, clutching his stomach. The pain he feels is only second to the time she’d kneed him in the nuts, and he’s horrified to realize the kids are eagerly taking in his suffering.

“Wow, Mom, you really slugged him!” Adam cheers, while Tina’s shoulders shake in silent laughter. “Is he gonna live?”

“Hope not!” Sara shakes out her hand, wincing. “It’s been forever since I did that.”

“Sa…ra….” He wheezes, curled up in fetal position. Her arm is as good as ever. “Why…?”

“You snuck up on me, asshole!” She spits. “Where did you learn your manners, in a barn?”

“Like me?” Adam chirps, and Sara shakes her head.

“No, honey, that’s just an expression. Except when it comes to _this_ guy….” Sara crosses her arms over her chest. “God _damn_ it, Pete, what’s your issue?”

“I just wanted to properly greet the really cute teacher?” He laughs at her pout, groaning as his injured stomach screams its protest. “Goddess, Sar, you hit hard.”

“Course I do.” She scowls. “And don’t call me Sar. Now, when you’re done being a baby, you can get yerself cleaned up and off my property.”

“Aw, can’t the funny man stay?” Adam wheedles, tugging on Sara’s sleeve “I like him.”

Tina slides off her seat and kneels next to Pete, patting his head as if her were a dog. The injured man manages a smile, glancing at his ex-fiancée.

“I like you guys too.” Sara’s flustered expression gives him strength to carry out his dastardly plan. “But I do have to listen to your mom, don’t I?”

“No!” Adam looks appalled, and Tina starts to sniffle. “You can’t leave!”

“You heard her, buckaroo. I can’t fight your Mom on this-“

“No no no _no_!!!!”

“Stop trying to tear my kids from me!” Sara explodes, finally at her limit. “You’re a no good, lousy, good for nothing, piece of-”

“Watch it, Sar, there are children present.” He grins as her angry expression falters. “Go on, tell me what I am.”

“… I hate you.” Her voice is flat, trembling with something he can’t quite place. “I hate you so much!” She turns on her heel and races out the backdoor, the screen door slamming in her wake. Pete flinches at the sound, and next to him, both kids stare after her, confusion and hurt painted on their faces.

“…. Mom?” Adam calls quietly, staring at the swinging door. He turns to look at Pete, a woebegone expression on his face. “… Did I do something wrong?”

His heartbroken voice tears him, and Pete struggles to sit up, pulling Adam and Tina to him. Tina happily accepts the embrace, while Adam warily hangs back, unsure of what to make of this display of affection in the face of all that has happened.

“Hey, don’t worry about her. She’s not mad at you, she’s mad at me.” He ruffles the tops of their heads, earning a grunt from Adam as his hat is knocked to the floor. “Give her time, she’ll come ‘round.”

“…can you help me with my letters, mister?” Adam asks finally, blinking at Pete with his big blue eyes. “I keep messing them up. And I don’t want her mad at me again.”

“Sure, why not? But she’s not mad at you, son, she just wants you to be the best you can be.” He stands up, leading the twins back to the table. “I was pretty good with my schooling back in the day. Brought home a diploma, at any rate.”

“What’s a dip-oma?” The boy asks curiously, and Tina nods, making another one of her strange hand gestures.

“Oh, it’s just a paper that says you’re smart enough to be a grownup in the real world.” Pete smiles. “I don’t think your mother has one though.” He’s not expecting it when Tina leans over and pinches him. “Hey!”

“You can’t talk bad about our Mom, mister.” Adam scowls, his face a mirror-identical of his mother’s when she’s mad. “You don’t even know her.”

“I’d have to disagree there,” Pete hums, easing over Adam’s book. “Your mom and I go way back. But I wasn’t trying to say anything about her. Honest. Just that not everyone needs a diploma to prove their worth. After all…” He glances around the house, bigger and more modified than when he’d lived here, and thinks of the transformed island. “She did all this herself, didn’t she?”

“Yeah. Dad helped a little, but it was all Mom.” Adam shrugs, a little bored of the conversation but still proud of the woman who'd raised him. “Mom’s pretty cool, ain’t she, mister?”

“That she is.” Pete glances at the open back door and sighs heavily. “That she is.”

Over the next hour, Pete learns a lot about his kids. Poor Adam seems to have inherited his mother’s inability to focus, and struggles to make sense of simple words. It brings him back to when he’d caught Sara in tears over shipment records, years ago, and how he'd sat with her and helped her figure it out, just like he's helping their son now. Tina, on the other hand, needs very little assistance, quietly zipping through books with an ease that awes him. He isn’t sure he can stake any claim in his little girl’s intelligence, but that doesn’t make him any less proud- of either of them, really. Slowly but surely, they’re becoming his world- just like Sara had been a long time ago.

He looks up from studying Adam’s copy work to see Tina staring at him, a perplexed look on her face.

“What’s the matter, little bit?” He asks, sliding closer. “You need help?”

She signs frantically, and he has to wave his hands in surrender.

“Slow down. I can’t understand you. Can you write it out for me?”

She nods, picking up her pencil. Slowly, in neat round letters, she writes, ‘Learn letters?’

“But you already know your letters, sweetheart. Look how you flew through that book.”

Tina shakes her head and points at him, a stern expression on her face.

“You mean… me?” At her nod, he smiles. “Well sure, I’d love to, Miss Tina.”

They’re quietly learning their signed letters together when the front door creaks open. Pete turns, a wide smile on his face.

He’ll do his best, this time around.

“Welcome home, sweetheart-” His voice dies as he recognizes the newcomer. “Oh fuck, it’s you.”

“'Sweetheart?'” Bigbee raises an eyebrow, adjusting the large bouquet of flowers in his hands. “You wouldn’t be happening to be talking about Sara, would you?”

“And if I am?” Pete gets up, stalking over to the taller man. The flowers make him feel guilty- he'd never thought to bring Sara a bouquet when they'd been together, or any gifts really. It hits him then that he'd taken her utterly for granted. But things are different now- they have _children_ together, and that's a bond that can never be severed.

She'll be his again soon enough.

“What are you going to do about it?” He asks cockily, getting in the other man’s face. “Hm?”

“I’m going to get rid of you!” The flowers go flying, and in an instant, they’re at each other’s throats. “How _dare_ you come back into her life now?! Do you have any idea what you’ve done!?”

“I came back for her!” Pete snarls, throwing a punch. There’s a satisfying crunching sound as his fist connects with Bigbee’s nose, but in an instant he’s on his back, struggling to keep Bigbee from choking him. "I'm going.. to make... things right!"

“I am _not_ going to let you ruin her life again!”

In the background, Pete hears Adam let out a startled cy, and the sound of books clattering to the ground. He pants as he pries Bigbee’s fingers from his throat, glaring at the other man.

“I _won't_! Things are different now!”

“Clearly not!” Bigbee glares. “Once a city slicker, always a city slicker, Slick.”

“For the last damn time, I ain’t from the city, and I _ain’t_ a slick!”

“Sure, Slick, sure-”

“What are you two _doing_?!”

Pete looks up from throttling Bigbee to see Sara standing behind them, holding a silently sobbing Tina in her arms. Adam is clinging to her leg, eyes as wide as saucers as he takes in the two battered men. Pete feels instantly lousy.

He's messed up big time.

“Sara…”

“What the _hell_?!” She yells, her voice high and shrill. “You _idiots_! Wrecking my house and scaring my children- get up! Get _up_!” She stomps her foot, anger flashing in her eyes. “Get the hell up and explain yerselves right now!”

“Sara… I’m sorry. I just wanted to protect you.” Bigbee fingers the bridge of his broken nose, wincing. “He shouldn’t be here.”

“ _You_ shouldn’t be here!” Pete retorts, coughing as he rubs his throat. “Who do you think you are, moving in on another man’s woman like that? Sara is _mine_!”

“I am no one’s woman,” Sara gasps, trying to cover her children’s ears. “What the hell are you saying?”

“How could you remarry so soon, Sara?” Pete demands, gesturing at the children. “After all we went through- and to _him_ , of all people!”

“Remarry…?” Sara bursts into laughter, adjusting Tina on her hip. “Oh Goddess… Oh _Goddess_ , why would you think- how could I remarry after the disaster that was our engagement? Hooo boy.” She sniffs, wiping a tear from her eye. “You crack me up, Pete, ya know that? You honestly think I’m over-” Her eyes widen, and she slaps a hand over her mouth. “I- I mean, I didn’t want to remarry after-”

The damage is already done.

“You still like me!” Pete gloats, a wide grin on his face. “I knew it. You _love_ me!”

“No- you heard that wrong! Idiot! I hate you!” Her face is bright red. “I _despise_ you!”

“Mommy?” Adam pats her leg. “What’s an engagement? You like him?”

Tina sniffs loudly and nods her head, staring at her mother intently.

“Shit….” Sara exhales heavily, glancing between her children.. “Don’t… don’t repeat that word. As for you.” She turns a steely glare on the men in the room. “Both of you, get out. I’m going to tend to my children, and you’re both not going to be here when I return, got it?” She shakes her head. “Honestly. What is wrong with ya’ll?”

Pete watches her stomp away, Adam trailing behind her, and winces when the door to the other wing of the house slams shut.

He messed up.

“I messed up…” Bigbee rubs his neck, picking up his messed up flower bouquet. “Damn…”

“If you’re worried about the flowers,” Pete quips, “Sara doesn’t like flowers. Specially not those.”

“Shows how much you know,” The other man snaps. “But no, these aren’t for her.”

“Oh?” Pete feels Bigbee’s gaze lingering on him as he turns to get his hat, placing it back on his head. “Who are they for then. Elza? Kate? Ain’t they a bit young for you?”

“…Look. I hate your guts, but you obviously have no idea what’s been going on around here, do you?” Bigbee’s voice is full of pity, which unnerves Pete quite a bit.

“The hell do you mean by that?” His hands curl into fists. “You want to go again, big guy?”

“… Goddess, you really don’t know. Of course, Sara wouldn’t say… and I don’t blame her. You’re a fucking idiot.” Bigbee pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation, wincing in obvious pain. “Shit… I guess I gotta tell you, huh?”

“What? Tell me what?”

“… come on, let’s get lunch at the Inn. I’m meeting someone there, so I’ll explain to you in the meantime.”

“Fine,” Pete grumbles. “But I don’t trust you.”

“Likewise.” Bigbee sighs. “But I owe you the truth. For Sara’s sake.”

~ ~ ~

Lunch is an awkward affair.

As soon as they go in, Bigbee has one of the servers take them back to a private dining room, where they silently regard each other over drinks while waiting for their food. Pete had almost forgotten the other man owned the Inn.

“So.” Bigbee clears his throat. “You should know that you destroyed her when you left.”

“Bullshit.” Pete narrows his eyes. “She’s fine- better than fine-”

“Use your eyes, dipshit!” Bigbee rubs his temples. “How dumb could you be, Slick?”

“For the last damn time, I ain’t even _from_ the city!”

“Whatever. That ain’t the point now, is it?” The other man sighs, folding his hands together. “Now shut up so I can tell you what you did, you ass.”

Pete bites his tongue, reaching for his sandwich to distract himself from the overwhelming urge to break the other man’s nose a second time.

“Fine. Go.”

“You should know that after you left that night, she didn’t show to town for three weeks. I came to check on the animals, but they were just fine. Your crops however…” He shrugs. “Well, it weren’t my problem, at any rate. Suppose she just didn’t want to go out there and be reminded of you. They all rotted on the vine. Problem came when the Union decided it was time for her to pony up cash and she didn’t have nothing to give but her animals.” He reaches for his drink. “The horses were the first to go.”

Her favorite animals.

“She kept going. Didn’t hardly talk to no one. We only saw her every once in a while, coming back from the city with boxes of goddess knows what with her. Well,” He amends, reaching for his sandwich. “I learned what it was.”

“What?” Pete asks finally, realizing the other man wasn’t going to say it until prompted. “What was she buying?”

“Booze.” Bigbee swallows, smirking as Pete chokes. “Yeah, I didn’t expect it either, Slick. Tiny girl like her chugging liquor like she had no tomorrow- which she wouldn’t have had if I hadn’t found her passed out by the pier one night, by the way. No tomorrow, no today…” He looks wistful. “Anyway, Kirk and I got her to the city hospital quick as we could and… well.” He fixes Pete with a hard stare. “I’m sure you can guess what they found out there.”

“ _Goddess_.”

He had thought she’d be fine without him- in fact, he’d started to assume the lack of communication had been _proof_ of how well she was doing.

What had he done?

“Damn straight. She was a mess, couldn’t be trusted alone. I was the one who moved up to the farmhouse to stay with her, kept the Mayor and his ilk off her back. The Union was not happy to find out what happened, I’ll tell you what." He takes a breath. "She wasn’t in a good state to do much for a few months after that- especially not farming. Elza and I had to wean her off the bottle, get her back on some real food, so she could be healthy for those babies of yours. Billy and Kate helped out where they could with the farm but... it weren’t easy, Slick. It weren't easy.”

He could imagine.

“Then one day, she woke up, looked me dead in the eye and told me ‘Bigbee, we’re kicking the Union.’ Of course, I thought she was mad- anyone would. I mean, I was talkin’ to a recovering _alcoholic_ \- and by the way? She was way, _way_ worse than old man Harry’d been. That’s a tough act to beat, ya know?” Bigbee looks pensive. “But then she pulled out this notebook from under her pillow full of these plans she’d written out. All horribly misspelled in that chicken scratch handwriting of her, of course, but by the Goddess, it was a solid plan. So… I helped her.” He shrugs. “I ain’t gonna say the Union didn’t help us out, but it sure held us back. So I was willing to try anything… and I was right to trust her.”

Pete listens as Bigbee recounts the numerous tasks he and Sara had to complete to ditch the Union. The people they’d called, the places they’d gone to beg for help, Sara’s grim determination through it all, even when some Union Supporters had burned her henhouse.

“Well, it finally worked. After months of talks, the Union gave up on Citrus… the stipulation was, of course, that Sara would have to find out how to step in where the Union had been holding us up. That had been bothering her all evening on our way back from the City Hall, but I told her not to fret too much about it, between her and me, we’d get it done.” Bigbee stares at Pete’s untouched sandwich. “You gonna eat that, Slick?”

“… no.” Pete shoves it across, watching as Bigbee goes to town hungrily. His stomach churns. "Then what?"

“Anyway, we got back to Citrus, and she said she wasn’t feeling too good. I told her, fine, go take a bath or something, I’d start dinner. Well, she didn’t come back after an hour, so I went to check on her and…” He swallows. “It was terrible. Awful. There was so much blood… Elza’s mother came, and so did Louis’, and we did our best. It was too late at night to get a doctor from the city… think she might have needed one though.” He sips his drink. “Throughout the whole thing, she wouldn’t stop yammering on about you.”

Pete thinks he’s going to be sick.

“She kept telling me to just ‘Save Pete’s children’ and I told her ‘Fuck that guy, these are _your_ babies, and you need to be there for them.’ Over and over, back and forth, until finally that son of yours was born, screaming his little head off. I think that was the moment it was all finally real to her, when she held him for the first time. Your name didn’t cross her lips once after that.” He smirks. “What do you think about that, Slick?”

“Stop calling me that,” He mutters, feeling oddly cold despite the warm weather. "I'm from Rosebud, not the city..."

“Too bad, Slick, that’s what I’m going to call you.” Bigbee chomps on a chip. “Well, they got her stabilized after Tina was born, though the little thing never made a peep. Figured her brother just took all her fire. At least, that’s what I told Sara to keep her calm. She didn’t need to be worrying her head over a possible disability in the state she was in- she needed rest, not another headache. Then, that night, I happened to check on the lil bits for her… Adam wasn’t breathing.”

“What?!” Pete almost feels like he can’t breathe. “Adam… Adam was….”

“Yep, he was turnin’ as blue as that cap of his- it’s her old man’s, did you know? Kid doesn’t go anywhere without it. Point is, we brought him back, but all three of them went to stay at the hospital for a good month after that. Adam’s lungs weren’t all that developed, and they wanted to run tests on Tina, see what was wrong with her voice box. I’m sure you can guess why they kept Sara.”

Of course he can.

“Well, the story ends happily enough, I suppose. Sara came back after that month, turned this whole place upside down. Got people to move in and set up shop- she’s amazing, she is. I know old man Harry’s right proud of her.” Bigbee smiles. “So am I.”

“I bet,” Pete replies, a bit dazed by all the information he’d just learned. Poor thing. He should have come back to check on her- she shouldn’t have had to go through this alone. “Goddess, poor Sara...”

“… look.” Bigbee sighs heavily. “I hate your guts, Slick, but you make her happy, for some reason. And _only_ because I like to see her smile… I’m willing to help you win her back.” He scowls when Pete perks up. “But you pull any of that runaway shit again and I will snap your neck, ya hear me?”

“I promise. I won’t ever leave her again."

“Ya better not, or I’m feeding your corpse to the sharks.” Bigbee laughs. “Now then, first thing ya gotta do is…” He pauses, a knock at the door interrupting him. “Hold that thought.”

Pete’s expecting a lady to walk through the door, with the way that Bigbee’s blushing and holding his broken bouquet of flowers so carefully. But when his old friend Ken from Rosebud walks through the door and scoops the other man into his arms, it occurs to him that things are never really what they seem.

Especially not in the little town of Citrus.

~ ~ ~

It’s well after ten by the time he goes back to the farmhouse.

He feels the oddest sense of déjà vu as he walks onto the property, like he’d never really left. The spare key is still above the doorframe, where she’d always kept it, and he unlocks the door quietly, hoping to just collapse on the couch and sleep for a while. He’s got a lot to discuss with Sara in the morning, after all, and just thinking about all the bridges they’ll have to mend together makes him feel exhausted.

“What the hell! I told you to git!”

Sara’s still up, to his dismay, seated at the table with a desk lamp and a plethora of books spread before her. She’s got a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose, and a small notebook and calculator set before her.

“Hey there, Sar,” He greets, shutting the door and toeing off his boots. “You’re up awfully late.”

“Get the hell out, you ass,” She hisses, jumping to her feet. “I done told you to git!”

“Plans change, babe,” He says breezily, walking over to her side. “I ain’t going back.” He frowns at the paperwork before her, pointing at a sheet of what seems to be sums. “Burning the midnight oil, I see?”

“Stop trying to change the subject, you ass,” She swats his hand away, putting a finger to her lips “And keep yer voice down. The twins are sleeping.”

“Sorry.”

“Whatever.” She crosses her arms over chest, shivering slightly in her thin cotton nightgown. “What do you mean yer not going back? Don’t you have that farm of yours, and your Miss Daisy?”

Something about the way that she says that makes a lightbulb go off in his head, and he laughs incredulously.

“Are you jealous of Daisy, Sar?” He shakes his head. “Goddess, how blind can you be?” He slowly reaches out to her, cupping her cheek in his hand. “That farm ain’t important to me, and neither is Daisy. It’s you, dearest. It’s always been you.”

She moves before he can react, slapping him hard across the face.

“Idiot! Asshole! How _dare_ you come back after all these years and try to pick up where we left off?!” She’s bright red and trembling with anger, and Pete finds himself shrinking back as he cradles his own injured cheek. “I don’t want you back, do you hear me?! I’m better off without you!”

“Bullshit!” He snaps, anger getting the best of him. “You need me back! Yer stretched too damn thin and you got the whole town relying on you. How the hell do you expect to keep this up when the kids get older? They’re going to need more attention, you know, especially Tina-”

“What the hell do you think I’m doing?” She fires back, gesturing at the table. “I’ve learned to function around my work and my kids. They aren’t lacking for nothin’, and the farm ain’t slackin’ either.” She jabs a finger into his chest. “You have no right to our lives anymore, so you just git the hell out and go back home!”

“This is my home!” Pete shouts. “My home is with you!”

“Like hell-”

“Mommy?”

Pete freezes, watching as Sara runs over to scoop up their frightened children. He’d completely forgotten to keep his voice down, and as Tina fixes him with a watery stare, he feels awful.

“Oh, babies, Mommy’s sorry for waking you up,” Sara croons, rocking them in her arms. “Are you okay?”

“Tina’s scared,” Adam says, translating for his sister as she makes sleepy gestures. “Can’t sleep. Me neither.”

“Oh dear,” Sara frets, starting to stand. “Well, let’s just get you some warm milk and then-”

“ _I’ll_ get them to bed,” Pete interrupts, walking over and taking the twins into his arms. “You go finish your paperwork.”

“What- no! Don’t you dare! Get yer hands off of _my_ children-”

“ _Our_ children," He corrects softly. "Don’t I got the right, Sar? You know I love them same as you do. Can ya trust me for once? Please?”

She stares at him with an unreadable expression before slowly nodding.

“Fine. Go take care of them. But if you need help…”

“I know who to call.” He offers her a soft smile. “Thanks, Sar.”

“… Idiot.”

It’s well past midnight by the time he gets the twins to sleep. Tina had wanted a bedtime story, and Pete hadn’t quite felt safe leaving them alone until he’d been absolutely certain that Adam’s chest was rising and falling regularly. Tonight, he feels like a father, and more than ever, he’s sure he doesn’t want to let this good thing go.

“Sar, they’re asleep, can you…?”

He pauses, smiling softly at his ex-fiancée. Sara’s knocked out on her books, a soft smile on her face indicating a pleasant dream. He goes to get a blanket, carefully draping it over her as he examines her evening’s work. There are numerous shipment records spread before her, along with invoices from various Citrus businesses, her own bills and finally, an elementary sign language book.

She’s amazing.

Before he retires to his lonely spot on the couch, he pauses to press a chaste kiss to her cheek. She sighs quietly, but otherwise doesn’t react. He straightens up, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes before leaving her to her dreams.

“Good night, Sara.”

~ ~ ~

Fatherhood is surprisingly easy to slip into.

Though Sara doesn’t ever talk to him if she can help it, they have an understanding when it comes to the twins. While she takes care of the animals, he wakes the children up and gets them ready for the day, having breakfast hot on the table by the time she returns. Then, while she goes down to the shop for the morning, he helps them with their schoolwork, slowly learning bits of sign language alongside his son and daughter. Sometimes, they take him around the island, showing him a place made new by the eyes of a child. Adam shows him tadpoles and bugs, while Tina makes them all flower crowns, eagerly leading them through brook and valley to her favorite places.

At night, they read stories together, acting out the tales with shadow puppets and sound effects. He watches them sleep, gets to know the way their finger curl and the sounds of their breathing. He becomes as familiar with them as their mother always has been.

Slowly but surely, they’re becoming a family. He might not be their father by name just yet, but they’re getting there, with baby steps. One day, they’ll have the life the Goddess intended for them- him, Sara, Adam and Tina, all together again.

He’s just got to wait for Sara to give the word.

“Pete.”

It’s late at night, and they’re both sitting at the table together, doing their work. Sara is logging numbers into an account book, while Pete attempts to learn from one of Tina’s sign books.

“Hmm?” He glances up, his hand contorted into a strange shape. “What’s up?”

“You need to leave at the end of the month.” She stands up, closing her books. “Earlier would be better, but I’ll give you time to say goodbye.”

“What?” His heart stops. “But… why?”

He’d really thought they’d been making progress. Sure, she wasn’t really talking to him, but she wasn’t biting his head off either. Strangely enough, it reminded him of their first year together, how unsure she’d been until he’d proven himself worthy of his trust. They’d played a waiting game together, one that had led to kisses stolen behind the barns, embraces in the night.

He can’t lose now.

“Look, I’ve tolerated you up till now, but I’ve been doing some thinking.” She crosses her arms, shifts in her seat. “This is for the children, you know. You’ll only confuse them if you stay.”

“How?” He explodes, unable to contain himself. “They _love_ me, Sara! They need me around-”

“No they don’t!” She cries, slamming her hands down on the table. “You’re just a new toy to them. They’ll get bored of you soon enough, and then they’ll start asking me, ‘Mommy, who’s the strange man sleeping on the couch?’”

“You’re not going to tell them I’m their father?” Her words are like a dagger in his heart. “Sara, I respected your decisions up till now, but I’m drawing the line here. You can’t just _lie_ to them-”

“Watch me!” She spits, getting up. “I’ll go wake them up right now, tell them their father is dead, and that you’re leaving-“

“ _Stop_.” He grabs her arm as she stomps past him, tugging her into his lap. “Don’t be an idiot, Sara. Be reasonable.”

“Why?” She struggles to free herself. “Why let them get close to you if you’re just going to leave again? I’d rather they not have a father at all than a deadbeat!”

Her words sting, but she’s absolutely right. He was a deadbeat dad- if it hadn’t been for Daisy, he’d have never known about this life he’d left behind, their wonderful children and their transformed home. She has every right to fear him leaving again- he hadn’t been a stellar partner before. In fact, he’d been a right ass.

But what she doesn’t know is that he’s changed. Just a few short weeks with her and their kids has made him grow as a person, changed him from a man who just wants results into someone who wants to enjoy the journey. He loves their little family, heart and soul. He wants to see Adam’s first horse race, take Tina to her first father-daughter dance. He wants to be a part of this happy little family, not just by virtue of the blood in their veins, but as a parent, a partner.

He wants to grow old with the woman in his arms.

“Pete, are you listening to me? I said-”

Her lips are just as soft as he remembers, with the familiar taste of strawberry lingering from her chap stick. He can't help but smile against her mouth as she hesitantly returns the kiss, her fingers lightly lingering against his chest. His fingers find purchase in her hair, pulling her so close that it's hard to remember where he ends and where she begins. Hands find familiar places, familiar sounds fill the air. Time melts away and they're young again, lost in a world where the only thing that matters is them. He’s _home_ \- for the first time in forever, he’s right where he belongs.

Sara whimpers softly, and Pete pulls away. Her eyes are stubbornly downcast, refusing to meet his even when he runs his thumb over her lips. Slowly, he tilts her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze, searching her eyes for a sign, a message that she feels the same way he does, has since the day they'd met.

She looks away.

The sign language books are left untouched, the accounting to be done another day. Two children sleep peacefully, unaware of the reunion occurring on the other side of the wall. There are tears, muffled oaths, but ultimately, there’s peace. For the first time in a long time, they’re both complete.

 _Happy_.

When morning dawns, however, the truce is gone. Sara pulls away from his embrace with the coldness of a stranger, getting up to dress as if he isn’t even there. At the last moment, just before she heads out the door, she turns back to look at him her solemn expression saying more than words ever could.

It’s over.

~ ~ ~

Pete doesn’t know what to say to the children, in the light of all that has happened. That he can’t stay in the house is a given- after what had just happened between him and Sara, it’s impossible. Just to look at her hurts, and he’s thankful when the children don’t linger after breakfast, disappearing to play with friends, or whatever it is that children do. As he puts away their breakfasts, settling down to eat Adam’s untouched plate, he wonders what he should do next.

Leaving without a word would hurt the kids- but so would saying goodbye. They're still young enough to forget him someday- there's hope that he won't remain a painful stain upon their memories for the rest of their lives.

Then again, they'd almost been a family.

So much for that dream. The events of last night have made it painfully obvious that he and Sara are two completely different people now- two people who'd never get back the spark they’d once had. Sara no longer needs a man to rely on- she's independent now, and happy. She doesn't need anything he could offer her now- in fact, he knows in his heard he'd only bring her down.

Maybe it’s best to just let go.

“Pete.”

He looks up from packing his rucksack, surprised to see a flustered Sara standing before him. He’d assumed that she didn’t want anything more to do with him but here she was, wringing her hands nervously as she waits for his response.

“What?”

“Where are the twins?” She glances around the room. “Not with you?”

“Nope.” He shrugs, resuming his work. “Haven’t seen them since breakfast. Why? They didn’t come to bother you at the shop?”

“... Pete, are you aware of what time it is?” There’s something off about her voice, and he stops what he’s doing, watching her. “It’s a quarter past five, Pete. I haven’t seen them _all day_.”

“Oh.”

“‘Oh’ is right!” Her voice is shrill, frightened. “They’ve never been out this late before. And Adam always makes sure to bring Tina back for lunch. Where could they be?”

“Doesn’t matter to me, Sar.” He feels like an ass for saying it, but they’ve drawn their lines in the sand, and pretending indifference makes the parting hurt less. He shoulders his bag, walking past her to the door. “I’m not their dad.”

“Pete.” Sara looks conflicted. “Pete, _please_.”

Her plaintive plea almost wins him over- and then he remembers just who he's talking to.

She'll be fine without him.

“Thanks for these past few weeks… they were fun. When you find the kids, tell them… well, tell them what you have to. Sorry for the trouble. Bye.” He hears her start to say something, but the slamming of the door cuts her off.

It's over.

“Leaving?” Kirk asks as he approaches the ferry. “About time.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes. “Make your wisecracks, old man, I get it. Ya won’t see me this side ever again.”

“… A shame.” There’s something off about Kirk’s voice today, but Pete ignores it, walking past him into the boat. “Ferry leaves in fifteen.”

He takes a seat by a window, taking one final look at Citrus Island. It’s odd, but he feels like he’s leaving home again, even though he's heading towards it. Stubbornly, he stares out the far window towards the sea, trying to think of anything other than the perfect life he's leaving behind.

More than Sara, he's going to miss Adam and Tina. He won't ever get to greet them after one of their small adventures, or accompany them on one of their bigger ones. He'll never get the chance to see their faces light up upon discovering something new, or be there to cheer them on when the world doesn't go their way. He’ll never watch them grow up, fall in love, have kids of their own. He’ll never do another midnight check on Adam, never get another sloppy kiss from Tina.

He can’t do this.

Pete jumps up, rushing past Kirk back to the island. He doesn’t see the old man smirk, nor does he hear the soft words that get carried away on the ocean breeze.

“About damn time.”

~ ~ ~

Being a parent is a lot more complex than people think. Sure, there’s the happiness you get from being together, from sharing in their small victories and passions and watching them grow. There’s also the frustration of not being able to give them everything they want and more, of butting heads and hurt feelings.

Sometimes, however, being a parent means acute panic.

Pete’s lungs burn as he races back into the heart of the island, calling out loudly for his son and daughter. His mind races as he tries to think of where they could be. The twins had been oddly silent at breakfast- though really, it had been Adam who’d been quiet, picking at his plate before excusing himself and Tina to go play.

If something had happened to them… he’d never forgive himself.

“Adam! Tina!” Pete slows to a stop on the outskirts of the woods, pounding his fist against the trunk of a tree. “Where are you?!?”

The only sound he hears is his own heavy breathing, the rustle of the grass as the wind blows. His ears strain to pick up Adam’s voice, or any sound not native to the woods.

“Adam! Tina!!”

He almost misses the tiny sound he gets in response, as caught up as he is in his own anguish. It’s hardly louder than a whisper, and at first he thinks he’s hearing a mouse.

“Tina? Adam?” He calls again, listening carefully to pick up the noise. It comes again, softer than before, and he runs towards it blindly, praying to the Goddess that he’s following the right sound.

He finds his children by the lake, huddled together in a mess of limbs. Tina’s the first to lift her head, and Pete realizes that the broken whimper he’s been following is hers, the extent of her vocal ability.

“Oh, _Goddess_ ,” He breathes, kneeling next to them. “Oh thank the Goddess, you’re safe. What happened?”

Tina shakes her head, pointing at Adam, who hasn’t moved at all. Pete shakes him gently, and then puts a hand to his cheek, yanking it back quickly.

The little boy is burning up.

“Oh boy,” He mumbles, picking Adam up. The little boy moans faintly, but remains unconscious as Pete settles him on his hip. “We need to get you home right away, little man. Come on Tina-” He stops, looking at his still-seated daughter. “Get up, baby, we gotta get your brother home.”

Tina nods, a determined look on her face as she slowly gets to her feet, dusting off her skirt. She takes one timid step forward and then collapses, another broken whimper escaping her lips.

“Shit.” Pete winces as he kneels back down, examining his daughter critically. “What hurts, little bit?”

Tina points at her ankle, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Her mouth forms an ‘o,’ and she holds her arms up, begging him to keep her safe. He scoops her up, feeling her hot tears seep into his shirt.

“Okay, let’s just get you two home,” He soothes, rubbing her back. “Your mother will know just what to do… it’s okay. You’re both going to be just fine.”

“Mr. Pete?” Adam stirs against his other shoulder, groaning lowly. “Is… is that you?”

“Yeah.” He frowns at the weakness in Adam’s voice, so unusual for the excitable child. “What’s up, little man?”

“Tummy hurts.” He whimpers, his little nails biting into Pete’s shoulder through his shirt. “I want my mommy.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon,” Pete picks up his pace, trying not to jostle them as he hurries home. “What happened?”

“Dunno.” He sniffles. “Hurt this mornin' so we decided to go look for some berries to help- then Tina got hurt. _O-ow_.” Adam lifts his head, revealing a tear-streaked face. “D-don’t tell Mom, okay? I- the man of the house ain’t supposed to cry.”

“Nonsense,” Pete scolds, pausing to consider which fork of the path to take. “Men can cry. I’ve cried too, ya know. Your mother will tell you all about it.” He winces to remember the small cut on his leg that had become a deadly infection, leaving him bedridden for ten days. “It’s okay, Adam.”

“Hey,” Adam asks faintly, his breathing growing labored. “How… how do you know our mom?” His breath hitches and he gasps. “Oh, oh, ow!”

“We used to farm together,” Pete mutters distractedly, scanning the path ahead for the familiar exit. “Is it real bad?”

“Like I got a pitchfork in my gut,” Adam grunts, and Tina makes another one of her tiny sounds. “Mister, I don’t feel so good.”

“Hang in there- exit’s right up ahead-” Pete skids to a stop. “Shit.”

“Y-you said a bad word.” The little boy twists his head around, his face pale and sweat-drenched. “Why’d you stop?”

“B-bear.” Pete steps back. “B-black bear.”

“Oh, good,” Adam says faintly. “You see it too.”

Pete tightens his grip on the children as he considers his options. He could put them somewhere safe and try to get past the bear himself, but he can't leave them to fend for themselves, injured and ill as they are. Running past is also out of the question- if the bear decided to chase them, they could all be killed.

His only option, really, is to just wait it out. Bears weren’t common in this part of the forest- perhaps it is just passing through, eager to get home after a long day. If Adam can last that long, if he can stay stable till the bear gets bored and leaves, then they’ll be safe.

Somehow, judging by how badly the boy is burning up, Pete doubts that will happen.

“Hurts, hurts, hurts!” Adam whines, twisting in Pete’s grasp. “Mister, it _hurts_! Make it stop!”

“I know, I know.” Pete takes a cautious step backwards, eyes locked with the growling animal. “Hush, Adam. You need to be quiet.”

“Hurts!!!” He screams, his voice breaking. “I want Mommy! _Mommy_!!!”

“Please,” Pete begs, wincing as the bear takes a step towards them, bearing its teeth. “Adam, quiet.”

“Mommy!!”

The last thing Pete sees before he shuts his eyes is the bear looming over them, preparing to take a swipe at them with sharp claws. He tries to shield the children with his body, preparing for the worst.

“Move!”

His eyes snap open, and he rolls out of the way, heart racing as a loud crack reverberates through the forest. The bear tumbles forward, smashing into the ground where he’d just been standing. Behind it, still holding the smoking shotgun in position, is Sara.

“You found them,” She breathes, dropping the gun and running towards them. Pete barely has time to brace himself before she’s enveloped all three of them in a hug, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. “Oh my babies. Mommy’s so happy that you’re safe.”

“Sara?” Pete pulls away, a worried look on his face. “Now ain’t the time to celebrate.”

“What are you-“

“Mommy?” Adam whimpers, twisting to look over his shoulder. “Is… that you?” Before she can say anything, he’s screaming again, thrashing wildly. “Hurts! Hurts! Oww!”

“Pete, what’s wrong with him?” Sara cries, taking Tina from him so he can lie Adam on the ground. “Tell me!”

“Shh.” Pete gently presses around on Adam’s stomach, earning a pained shriek as his probing descends lower. “Oh Goddess, no.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Sara kneels down. “What’s wrong with my baby?”

Pete shakes his head, gathering Adam into his arms again. He pulls Sara to her feet, looking at her with fear in his eyes.

“We need to him get to the hospital. Now.”

~ ~ ~

Pete looks up from the sleeping child in his arms to stare at his ex-fiancée, who is pacing the waiting room frantically. It’s been five hours since they’d checked Adam in, and they’ve yet to hear anything from the doctors about his condition. Tina slumbers fitfully in her father’s lap, her ace-wrapped foot dangling awkwardly above the ground. She’d tried to follow her brother when he’d been torn away from them, but had ultimately been denied.

Little girls had no place in the operating room, after all.

Sara too had tried to follow her son, only giving up when security had been called to restrain her. She’s kept a constant vigil outside the operating room door ever since, walking up and down so many times that Pete’s sure she’s made a groove in the linoleum. She’s refused food and drink, and he’s starting to get concerned about her.

“Sara.”

He lies Tina down on the bench and goes to her side, stopping her from pacing with a gentle hand. She turns to him with wide, watery eyes, her cheeks and nose red from crying.

“It’s all my fault.” Her voice is hardly louder than a whisper, and his heart breaks to hear it. “Adam… It’s my fault.”

“No, it isn’t.” He shakes his head. “Sara, appendicitis is very rare. No one could have guessed it would happen. My folks didn’t when it happened to me.” Another one of those secrets they'd never shared with each other, revealed too late. "It's just one of those things."

“But _I_ should have known,” She insists hysterically, her eyes welling up with tears. “I’m his _mother_ , damn it, I should _always_ know what’s happening with them. To think that I didn’t even notice…” Her voice breaks. “Pete… what will I do if he isn’t okay? I can't- I can't live in a world where they're not okay.”

He acts without thinking, pulling her into his arms and crushing her against his chest. She doesn’t pull away, clinging to his shirt as she sobs.

“He’ll be okay, Sar. He’s a little spitfire, just like his ma.” He presses a kiss to the top of her head. "A lil throw-away organ ain't gonna slow him down."

“What?” Sara looks up in confusion, her face streaked with tears and snot. “The… the heck are you on about?”

“... Nothing.” He lets her go, taking a step back. As easy as it is to be lulled into a false state of security by her despair, he knows where they stand now. He tugs off his neckerchief, offering it to her stiffly. “Just breathe, Sara. It'll be okay."

"H-how do you know?" She sniffles, blowing her nose hard. "How can you be certain?"

"Because of you." He offers her a smile. "You saved us all, ya know. If ya hadn’t come when ya had well… let’s just say we’d not be here right now. Thanks to you, Adam’s getting that lifesaving surgery, Tina’s foot is set…" He gestures vaguely. "You’re a hero, Sar.”

“Pete…”

“It’s okay.” He sighs. “I know I should have left already but I- I just want to be here when he wakes up. I promise, as soon as he's up I'll go."

“No! That isn’t what I was going to say!” Sara exclaims, grabbing his arm. “Pete-“

“Mr. and Mrs. Wilder?”

They both turn together, surprised to see a doctor in scrubs walking towards them, a chart in hand.

“You are the parents of Adam Harold Wilder, correct?”

“Yes!” The exclamation is made in unison, though neither of them really minds, as concerned as they are about their son.

“Is he okay?” Sara demands, wringing her hands together. “Is my baby okay?”

“No complications?” Pete asks worriedly, trying to look at the chart in the doctor’s hand. “He’s doing okay?”

“Yes, Adam is fine.” The older man smiles as Sara bursts into tears anew. “No complications, and he’s recovering quite well. You brought him in just in time. Any longer and we’d be telling a different tale.”

“Oh thank the Goddess,” Sara moans, a hand at her heart as she wipes at her streaming eyes. “Can I see him?”

“He just woke up and started asking for you, actually. He’s down the hall in his own recovery room now, three doors down.” He’s hardly finished speaking before Sara tears past him, disappearing into the aforementioned room. “Well then.”

“I’m sorry. She’s just nervous.” Pete starts to follow Sara before remembering Tina, who is starting to stir on the bench. “Come on baby, it’s time to see your brother.”

Adam looks impossibly tiny in his adult hospital bed, his little arms snaking out tubes that attach to a very full IV tree. He waves weakly at Pete and Tina from the shelter of his mother’s arms.

"Hey, Tina, Mr. Pete.” He winces. "Ma, stop squeezin' me so tight. I can't hardly breathe."

"Sorry." Sara glances over her shoulder, slowly relinquishing her hold on her son so that her squirming daughter can get access to her brother. "I'm just so happy yer safe."

“Hey there, little guy,” Pete says warmly as he carefully places Tina next to Adam. “How are you holding up?”

“Okay.” Adam sighs as Tina practically tackles him, hugging him with all the ferocity their mother had. “Ow, ow, _easy_... I’m sorry I didn’t get ya home, Tina.”

“You did well enough, Adam,” Pete soothes, taking a step back to stand beside Sara. “You were very brave.”

“But I’m the big brother,” Adam starts, squirming as Tina leans over to plant a wet one on his cheek. “Eugh, gross! Stop it, Tina.”

“Aw shucks, she’s just thanking you.” Pete shakes his head, feeling himself tear up. To think that if Sara hadn’t come by just in time… he’d have never to see the two together like this ever again. “How… how wonderful.”

“I know that, Dad.” Adam’s words are slightly slurred, an after-effect of the anesthesia, but Sara freezes upon hearing him. “How dumb d'ya think I am?”

“What did you say?” Sara asks lowly, her entire body tensed. “What did you call him?”

“Dad.” Adam yawns. “I ain’t _stupid_ , Ma. Though you and everyone else seems to think so.” He turns to look at his sister then back at his mother. “He’s our real dad, ain’t he?”

Tina nods, looking at her parents with a solemn expression. Looking between the two, Pete realizes what he must do.

“Adam….” Pete puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “No one ever said you weren’t smart. You’re sharp as a whip, actually…. But I have to tell you both something.”

“Shoot, Dad.”

Once upon a time, he’d thought that hearing his children call him by name would make him ecstatic beyond belief. Now, however, he knows that it is a bittersweet feeling- to finally be acknowledged knowing he’ll never be called that again.

“Just… Just because I am your father, doesn’t mean anything special. Anything new…”

“H-huh?” Three pairs of eyes stare at him, wait for clarification. And Goddess, does it hurt when he has to give it.

“Adam, your mother has requested that I go back home….” He swallows. “First thing in the morning, in fact.”

“Are you gonna bring my truck?” Adam yawns, sighing as Tina signs something. “And Sissy’s doll?”

“… No, son.” Pete swallows. “I mean-“

“Pete.” Sara’s voice is sharp and unexpected, and he nearly jumps to hear it. “Step outside with me for a second, okay?”

“Where you going?” Adam mutters groggily, leaning his head against his sister’s shoulder. “Mom…? Dad?”

“Back in a second, sweetheart,” Sara calls as they leave the room together. Pete shuts the door behind them, waiting patiently as Sara fidgets with her shirt sleeves, unable to meet his eyes.

“Sara-“

“Don’t.” She swallows, staring up into his eyes. “Don’t leave. Not again.”

“What?” He inhales sharply, too shocked to be elated. “But- but you just asked me-“

“I know. I know.” Her voice trembles. “But you saved them tonight, and if that don’t make you a good parent then I don’t know what does. A better parent than me, in fact.” She takes a breath. “I know… I know Bigbee told you what happened before. You know I’ve done my wrongs by them-”

“But that wasn’t your fault, Sara.” He frowns as she starts to cry again. “You’re a damn good mother, and the strongest woman I know. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

“Thank you…” She sniffs. “But even I ain’t above asking for a little help now and then.” She pauses briefly before charging on, the words tumbling out. “Look, it would really tear them to pieces if you left now.”

“And you?” Pete asks quietly, fearing her response. “How would you feel?”

“Terrible,” She whispers, allowing him to tug her into a hug. She relaxes in his arms, allowing him to surround her with his warmth. “Pete, I’m sorry.”

“No, I am.” He mumbles into her hair. “I’m the ass who hecked up so badly last time. I want to start again, but only if that’s okay with you.”

“Yes,” She breathes, hugging him tight. “I don’t know where life will take us, but please, don’t leave. Stay.”

“I promise.” He rests his chin on her head, staring through the door window at their children, who are tangled up in each other, fast asleep. “I’ll never leave your side again.”

“Good,” Sara hums, tightening her hold on him. “I’m holding ya to it.”

Pete sighs as he buries his nose in her hair, unable to suppress a small laugh. His happy family is intact once more, and he’s going to do everything in his power to keep it that way.

“What are you thinking about?” Sara asks quietly, lifting her head to look at him. “Your heart just sped up.”

“It’s nothing… just…” He grins down at her, resting his hands on the small of her back. “Just thinking that greener pastures lie ahead for us, darling.”

“Of course.” She rests her head on his chest. “Greener pastures, and happy days.”

**Author's Note:**

> -So this was a doozy of a fic. 
> 
> -Hi I'm Budgie and this is the first fic of a series formerly known as NFoMT. You may have encountered it on Tumblr... if so, I'm sorry.
> 
> -It covers quite a few games, and explores the relationships of characters within them to each other. This is one of the few that doesn't feature a rather prominent OC of mine. 
> 
> -Based on the GBC 3 game- and yes, Adam and Tina are THAT Adam and Tina. I have a strong headcanon.
> 
> -I'm not really sure what else to say other than to please drop me a comment if you read it? I'd love to hear what you liked and what you didn't. This is a somewhat edited version that I posted on my tumblr and revamped for a book, and then revamped some more for here. If I made any huge errors, please let me know.
> 
> -The bear is important. Keep an eye out for bears. They're symbolic. You'll see.
> 
> -Hope to hear from you! Please enjoy!


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